53

SUNDAY

“Idon’t think we’re going to find one,” I huffed, staring down at my body, which was currently encased in a skintight sequined gown that weighed at least fifteen pounds.

“You look like a disco ball,” Moira agreed.

“A bloody disco ball,” I grunted, peering at the scratches the sequins left beneath my arms.

“This is not the one.”

“I’ve tried on all of them. What am I supposed to do? Show up naked? Say I’m Lady Godiva?”

“Maybe? You could get Kingston to let you ride him into the ballroom.”

I snorted at the mental image. “Now that would be a hell of an entrance. Callie would choke on her tongue.”

“I think Thorne would go ballistic and kill every single guy who looked at you.”

Heat crept up my cheeks as I recalled the last time Noah saw me naked in public. “Maybe. Or he’d wrap me up in his jacket and usher me off to some closet where he could fuck me senseless. You know, come to think of it, this idea really has some merit.”