❝our eyes met,
and our souls caught on fire.❞
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Carla Marshall was a storm that could not be contained, her thunder rumbling and her lightning flashing, but her beauty could only be seen when the rain began to...
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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE— "keep his hands"
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THE VELVET PIECE shone brightly, reflecting the soft texture under the lights that skimmed through the expensive material, almost like tiny diamonds embedded in the fabric. The light bounced off the fabric in tiny, sparkling bursts, creating a sense of movement and life. Fingertips gently grazing the delicate cloth, Carabella reviewed her reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time, her coil smile plastered on her face right from the moment we stepped into the boutique.
Today was supposed to be my sleep-in day, however nothing ever summed up the way I wanted as my plans went out the window and at quarter to nine, both Bella and Jess had pulled me from my slumber and into their whirlwind of shopping plans. Austin had earlier informed us about the party he planned to throw at his house on New Year's Eve, which was why those two decided to pull me out of bed and into the mall to find the perfect dresses. While I sat, watching in boredom, Carabella meticulously inspected each dress, debating its merits and drawbacks. It was quite the sight to behold.
Accentuated with an off shoulder wrap red mini cocktail dress, Carabella looked breathtaking, the tiny fibres of the velvet material reflecting tiny lights like a million tiny stars. "I don't think this shade suits me," her melodramatic voice broke the train of my thoughts. Her hip was jutted out, fingers tangled in her jet-black hair, staring at me with a sullen expression.
I couldn't help but laugh at her dramatics even as I rolled my eyes. "It does."
"You're right, I look hot," she grinned, twirling around, only to stare back at me, our smiles warming the air. Her palms brushed against the creased sides, smoothening down only to reach for the zipper.
She walked back to her changing room whilst I glanced down to my lap, where different clothing articles laid aimlessly. And as she exited the room with the dress hanging in one arm, the other holding a pair of black stilettos, Jess stepped out of the changing room adjacent to hers.
Clad in a slinky slip dress, her ebony skin glistened under the lights. The dress clung to her like a second skin, its silky fabric caressing her curves, the deep black hue accentuating her skin. The cowl neckline dipped low, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of her chest, and the high slit revealed a hint of her toned thigh.
"How do I look?" The question floated in the air, light and playful, like a soap bubble, but underneath, I sensed a hint of insecurity, a quiet plea for reassurance. She stood there, her body stilled, waiting for my answer.
