him and I wanted to recline to regain the energy he’d zapped from me. With difficulty, I finally left the closet, my hand fluttering over Shayne’s inviting bed.
“I wanted to show you what you’ll be missing, show you what it’ll cost you to go to the formal with Brax instead of me.” Moore stood at the window, his back turned to me.
My head spun as I struggled to stay standing and understand Moore’s actions. Was he that angry? That jealous? Was he toying with me? Playing with my naïve emotions and taking advantage of my lack of experience.
When he turned to face me, his jaw was clenched and his eyes flared with a momentary light of something akin to rage. He quickly softened his eyes with a soft smile and came to me, pressing his body against me until I was left with no other choice than to sit on Shayne’s bed. He pressed further, leaning down, his hands set on either side of me and I lay back, my heart racing for his proximity, but alarmed for the increased sense of waning strength.
“When you dance with Brax at the formal,” he whispered into my ear, his fingers playing along the deep neckline of the dress. “I want you to remember this, remember our kiss, remember the passion we shared. When he holds you in his arms, it’ll be my arms you’ll long for, my lips you’ll want to kiss.”
My eyelids became incredibly weighted, and the bliss of darkness was suddenly more desirable than remaining with Moore. Vaguely aware of Moore, his lips close to mine, his breath heated against my skin, I drifted away, pulled into a deep slumber.
Chapter 11
T he night of the formal was finally here, and my quick progress in virtually every class left me feeling free to truly enjoy the evening without the weight of more work to be done. Added to that sense of freedom was the lack of demons, therefore lack of disturbances these past weeks. For the first time since I could remember I was simply leading the normal, ordinary, yet sometimes complex life of a teenager.
“Honey,” Mom called from downstairs. “You’ve received a package.”
And not a moment too soon, I thought as I raced down the steps. Shayne had promised to have the dress and shoes delivered two days ago and a slight panic had begun to gnaw at me.
“Great,” I said as I took the large white box. “I was beginning to think she had forgotten me.”
I ran back up stairs and tore the lid off. My face turned to dismay. Instead of the liquid silver halter dress, a purple mass of chiffon swelled out of the box. Finding the thin straps, I pulled it out of the box, the endless flow of ruffles as light and ethereal as the air itself.
Beggars can’t be choosers, I reminded myself, though I couldn’t imagine why Shayne had switched dresses on me. The silver halter dress had been perfect, perhaps too perfect for Shayne’s liking. Then again, I remembered my heated encounter with Moore, the embrace that had bordered on erotic, the kisses that left me light- headed and the subsequent ride home that remained vague and distant.
Had she ruined the dress in any way? If she had, Shayne had made no mention of it.
Pulling on the dress, it was quickly evident the dress would not have the same effect. It was pretty and fit perfectly, but was considerably more docile. Given the change in style, I opted to let my hair flow freely. Brax would no doubt be pleased to see me leave my hair down.
The final touch was a small silver cross, stylized and elegant. Fixing my eyes on my reflection, I smiled. My gown may have lost a bit of sex appeal, but the wanton flow of my hair, the smoky effect of make up about my eyes and the sultry gloss of my lips more than made up for the loss.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang and I knew Braxton had arrived. I could hear my mother greeting him, bright and welcoming. Father brought his stern paternal instincts to the mix, drilling Braxton with questions that had me laughing.
Grabbing
“I wanted to show you what you’ll be missing, show you what it’ll cost you to go to the formal with Brax instead of me.” Moore stood at the window, his back turned to me.
My head spun as I struggled to stay standing and understand Moore’s actions. Was he that angry? That jealous? Was he toying with me? Playing with my naïve emotions and taking advantage of my lack of experience.
When he turned to face me, his jaw was clenched and his eyes flared with a momentary light of something akin to rage. He quickly softened his eyes with a soft smile and came to me, pressing his body against me until I was left with no other choice than to sit on Shayne’s bed. He pressed further, leaning down, his hands set on either side of me and I lay back, my heart racing for his proximity, but alarmed for the increased sense of waning strength.
“When you dance with Brax at the formal,” he whispered into my ear, his fingers playing along the deep neckline of the dress. “I want you to remember this, remember our kiss, remember the passion we shared. When he holds you in his arms, it’ll be my arms you’ll long for, my lips you’ll want to kiss.”
My eyelids became incredibly weighted, and the bliss of darkness was suddenly more desirable than remaining with Moore. Vaguely aware of Moore, his lips close to mine, his breath heated against my skin, I drifted away, pulled into a deep slumber.
Chapter 11
T he night of the formal was finally here, and my quick progress in virtually every class left me feeling free to truly enjoy the evening without the weight of more work to be done. Added to that sense of freedom was the lack of demons, therefore lack of disturbances these past weeks. For the first time since I could remember I was simply leading the normal, ordinary, yet sometimes complex life of a teenager.
“Honey,” Mom called from downstairs. “You’ve received a package.”
And not a moment too soon, I thought as I raced down the steps. Shayne had promised to have the dress and shoes delivered two days ago and a slight panic had begun to gnaw at me.
“Great,” I said as I took the large white box. “I was beginning to think she had forgotten me.”
I ran back up stairs and tore the lid off. My face turned to dismay. Instead of the liquid silver halter dress, a purple mass of chiffon swelled out of the box. Finding the thin straps, I pulled it out of the box, the endless flow of ruffles as light and ethereal as the air itself.
Beggars can’t be choosers, I reminded myself, though I couldn’t imagine why Shayne had switched dresses on me. The silver halter dress had been perfect, perhaps too perfect for Shayne’s liking. Then again, I remembered my heated encounter with Moore, the embrace that had bordered on erotic, the kisses that left me light- headed and the subsequent ride home that remained vague and distant.
Had she ruined the dress in any way? If she had, Shayne had made no mention of it.
Pulling on the dress, it was quickly evident the dress would not have the same effect. It was pretty and fit perfectly, but was considerably more docile. Given the change in style, I opted to let my hair flow freely. Brax would no doubt be pleased to see me leave my hair down.
The final touch was a small silver cross, stylized and elegant. Fixing my eyes on my reflection, I smiled. My gown may have lost a bit of sex appeal, but the wanton flow of my hair, the smoky effect of make up about my eyes and the sultry gloss of my lips more than made up for the loss.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang and I knew Braxton had arrived. I could hear my mother greeting him, bright and welcoming. Father brought his stern paternal instincts to the mix, drilling Braxton with questions that had me laughing.
Grabbing
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