His to Tease_A Dark Romance by Charlotte Byrd

Author:Charlotte Byrd [Byrd, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B074D54L9Q
Publisher: Byrd Books
Published: 2017-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

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The day passes in a blur as I try to figure out what I should wear. My wardrobe isn’t as big or diverse as Caroline’s, so I raid her closet. Like many friends and roommates, our closets tend to combine and become one except that my clothes tend to be a lot cheaper than hers. I try on three different little black dresses and four different heels. I’ve never been a fan of heels, but I can’t lie, I do love how they make my legs look. I try on a couple of pairs of skinny jeans and fancy blouses. I’m always much more comfortable in pants than I am in dresses, and with a nice flowing top, the jeans don’t look so pedestrian. Plus, they do make my butt look quite good.

Finally, I settle on a pair of tight skinny jeans, four-inch pumps, and a bright red blouse that makes my breasts pop. Now, what the hell do I do with my hair? I look at my shoulder length straight straw-like tresses that tend to fall flat around my face. I washed it earlier today, and air dried it, which made some strands separate and curl in odd ways. I run a brush through it and get my straightener out. After applying some heat and curling the ends a bit to soften my look, I decide that I’m pretty much done with fussing about my hair. That’s the thing about straight blonde hair; if you don't do much with it, people think you’re going for the tossed beach look, which works for me.

After applying some concealer and foundation, eyeliner and accentuating my brows with some eyebrow liner, I put on a coat of mascara. I look in the mirror. Yeah, this looks about right. Pretty, but not too dressed up. Just in case this whole thing blows up in my face, I didn’t put that much effort into looking like a million bucks. That has always been my motto about getting dressed up. I never want to be the most dressy person in the room. Unlike Caroline, who likes to take any opportunity to wear the fanciest of dresses, I’d rather look a little underdressed. I hate looking like I’m trying too hard. It’s my armor against the world - to always be a little bit of an underachiever.

My doorbell rings precisely at seven. I press the buzzer and wait for him to come upstairs. Standing by the door, I start to shake. I’m petrified. We’re no longer playing games. This isn’t some mysterious stranger coming to see me. It’s Aiden, not Mr. Black. For some reason, the character of Mr. Black made me feel safe. With him, I felt like I was playing a role and he was playing a role and, as long as we played those roles, we couldn’t hurt each other. Not in any real way. Because the world was our stage and our relationship was just pretend. An elaborate play in which we had starring roles.

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