L. R. Nicolello - Dead No More

Lily carefully laid each out and examined them. Yanking her tank top over her head, she dropped it to the floor. She stepped out of her jeans, kicked them over to join her shirt and held out the first sequined dress. The neckline swooped down gracefully between two tiny spaghetti straps. She twirled the dress.

The back plunged in a deep V.

“Well, that won’t do.” She frowned and tossed the dress over the side of the chair tucked in the corner. A twinge flickered in her stomach. “Not ever again.”

Turning her body slightly, she glanced over her shoulder into the tall mirror leaning against the wall. Angry purple scars peppered her back. The pang in her stomach twisted.

Jackson’s treacherous actions had damaged not only her confidence, but also her body. She’d hoped to one day be able to move past the emotional barriers that day had erected.

But she’d never escape the physical evidence of his betrayal.

They—and subsequently Jackson—would be with her forever. Whether she liked it or not.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t have time to deal with that shit. Hands on her hips, she glanced at the second dress option. It reminded her of something she’d seen some Hollywood star wear on the red carpet. “Guess you’ll have to do.”

Slipping the dress over her head, she let its soft fabric envelop her. The smooth material perfectly hugged her curves, fit her like a glove. Lily stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The front plunged low in a deep V and barely covered her belly button or her breasts. A delicate strip of black lace connected the two sides of the V, concealing just enough to keep the gown from being entirely indecent. When she moved, her thigh peeked out the top of a mile-high slit.

The dress was daring. Flawless. Exquisite.

She loved it.

Turning, she peered into the mirror again. The high back concealed everything it needed to.

Well played, Derek. The dress couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been hand-tailored to her.

Game on. Time to go to work. She hitched her leg up, let the seam fall open and reached for her .32, then stopped . Normally, she’d be strapping on her thigh holster.

Not this time.

Tonight, they’d agreed she’d go in unarmed. Not her preference, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She left the bedroom and silently studied the man who’d blown into her life, turning it upside down. Derek stood with his back to her, gazing out the window overlooking the city. One hand was shoved in his pocket, while the other rested on Dakota’s neck as the dog sat by his side. The perfect pair, as if they belonged together in this place. With her. Lily froze. Where the hell had that come from? She shook her head. That would never happen, no matter how inviting a picture the two of them made.

“So?”

He turned and did a double take, desire sparking in his eyes. Lily recognized it immediately, and her stomach tightened. Derek whistled. “You look incredible.”

Warmth spread through every inch of her body, pooling in her stomach at his open approval. She couldn’t deny the pull Derek had on her, had from the very moment he’d tackled her to the ground. Yes, she’d been pissed and fought it—still tried to fight it, if she was being honest—but the urgency to push him away diminished with every second he was near.

“You think he’ll take the bait?”

Derek’s eyes traveled down her body. He ran his hand over his head and scratched the back of his neck, then nodded.

“Oh, yeah, he’ll take the bait.”

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