Catching the Storm

36. Redo

I haven't gotten around to updating Agent 34, and for that, I apologize. I have however been busy and you're all about to see why.

I have a few chapters I will be uploading today. But let's have you all take a guess.

How many chapters do you think I'll be uploading today?

Crystal's POV

I looked at myself in the mirror, at the red dress Jackson had given me to wear. It was simple, short, and surprisingly elegant for the amount of material it was lacking.

Still, I shook my head as I turned to look at the thin straps, the completely open back, and the hemline that stopped midthigh. The dress was loose as opposed to all the tight-fitting ones he'd packed. The heels I wore with it were silver and covered in rhinestones, same with the choker styled necklace around my neck.

Overall-in comparison to the rest of Jackson's outfit choices-this was not bad, and actually something I was used to wearing.

The problem was that no matter how much makeup I had tried to use, I couldn't completely cover up the bruises across my body.

I blew out a sigh and grimaced as Jackson knocked on the door.

"Unless you've spontaneously died," Jackson said and I glared at the closed bedroom door. "You should not be taking this long."

I shook my head. "I'm not going," I told him. "This plan of yours sucks anyway."

"The dress cannot possibly be that bad."

"You picked it," I retorted.

"That's how I know it can't be that bad."

"Yeah well," I muttered. "The dress isn't actually the problem this time."

"Believe me," Jackson said and his voice was no longer muffled by the door. "I don't see a problem."

I looked over my shoulder at him standing in the now open doorway, eyes glued to my ass. I turned to him, crossing my arms over my chest which only caused his gaze to linger there instead.

I snapped my fingers at him and his eyes finally moved up to my face.

"Babe," Jackson said. "That dress would look infinitely better on the floor."

I rubbed at my forehead. "I must be used to you," I muttered. "Because that comment does not even faze me right now."

"So what's the problem?" Jackson asked as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants, one leg crossed over the other.

I looked him up and down. He was wearing what he usually wore, a suit and dress shoes, and yet, as Julie had put it, he looked so much better this time.

"Say the word and we will skip dinner," Jackson said with a wink.

I shook my head, trying to clear thoughts of, well, him from my head. "I'm covered in bruises," I said as I stared at him. "In case you didn't notice."

He shook his head and walked up to me. "Is that all?" He stopped when he was practically nose to nose with me and I swear I stopped breathing.

He leaned down closer to me . . . and then reached around me to pick up the makeup from the nightstand behind me.

I found myself glaring at him when he shot me a smug smile.

"Did I do something wrong, Babe?" He questioned as he held up a makeup brush in his hand, a sly look on his face. "Or was there something you wanted me to do?"