No Control | Holding Me Ransom (Book 2)

85 - I Can Be Your Vice

"Yes," I nodded slowly, looking at my reflection in the mirror. "I remember. You convinced me to buy it. Why did you call it the fuck-me dress?"

He tilted his head to the side, regarding me with mild exasperation. "Really? Do you want me to spell it out?"

I chuckled. "Well - no, but I was after the meaning behind it."

"You look hot as fuck in it," he said, in a resigned tone. "I watched you try on a zillion dresses, but that one stood out because you just took my breath away when I saw you. So I privately nicknamed it the fuck-me dress. I did tell you the other day that I lost all my cool around you from day one."

"You are so unbelievably cute," I murmured, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the lips. 

"No," he chastised, pretending to be affronted. "I think you mean manly."

"Yes," I nodded seriously. "That is exactly what I meant."

"You know there's a high chance we could get papped tonight," he said softly, looking into my eyes in a way that made my knees wobble and my stomach flip.

"Yeah, I sort of thought that might be the case," I replied.

"Do you want to let them get pictures of us together?"

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt," I answered carefully. "A couple of pictures of us having dinner together could pave the way for letting the world know."

"Exactly what I was thinking," he nodded, with finality. "We can play it by ear; see what the vibe is."

But of course typically, because we were prepared to be spotted, there were no paparazzi around when we arrived at Ysabel. We enjoyed a quiet meal, with a small interruption from a few fans who asked for pictures with Harry (which of course he obliged, on the condition that they wait until he had left before posting them on social media), and made it back to Harry's car and home again without a single unwanted camera in our faces. 

The fuck-me dress went down a treat that night, as I remembered it had the first night I'd worn it in LA when Harry had taken me to Craig's for a meal, and then to the nightclub Project. It struck me as funny how he had been so bowled over by this outfit when I'd bought it and yet I had never known, and it had also been reassuring to hear he had been just as into me as I had been into him in the early days.

We were out for dinner again on Friday night (my clothes were feeling tighter by the day) with Jeff and another friend of Harry's called Justin, but it wasn't a particularly late one as Harry seemed to make excuses to get away, and we were home and cuddled up in bed watching TV that night before Anne and Robin. We discussed at length Harry's plans for the next couple of weeks in LA before his scheduled return home on the twenty first. 

"I'll make sure I'm spotted shopping in Beverly Hills or something, on the day I'm flying back," he said, as I nestled in the crook of his arm while he stroked my hair. "It'll buy me a couple of days' privacy when I get home, as long as I'm not spotted at either airport."

"I love it when you use your celebrity status to your own advantage," I grinned. "It must be very satisfying for you. It certainly is for me."

He chuckled softly. "It can be, sometimes. Are you looking forward to your flight with Louis tomorrow?"

"Well, I'm not looking forward to flying home, away from you," I said truthfully. "But it'll be more fun travelling with him than flying by myself."

"He's going to be in full show-off mode," Harry grumbled, and I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at him. He caught my eye briefly and then pulled his pillow over his head with a huff, to hide his face.