I changed three times.First dress went back because it was trying too hard, second one was too plain and plain on my body in a full room stops being plain real fast. Third was dark green, fitted at the waist. Fitted everywhere if I was being honest.I had bought it on a brave day two years ago and had never found anywhere worth the attention it would pull.Tonight I put it on and left the room before I could argue myself out of it.He was coming out of the study when I reached the bottom of the stairs.He looked up.Stopped.Not for long, a second maybe less. But his eyes moved over me in that way he had, that slow deliberate way that started at my face and did not rush and did not pretend it was anything other than what it was, and I stood at the bottom of those stairs and I let it happen.My body had stopped taking sensible instructions somewhere around day four of living in his house and I had given up fighting it.He looked back at my face.Something in his jaw had shifted."Read
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