Lust & Love
The fabric was meant to mold aggressively to every single curve of her body, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination despite the conservative cut.
Resting at the bottom of the box was a pair of black suede stilettos with a lethal, needle-thin heel.
Hazel checked the clock on her wall. It was six-thirty.
She walked into the bathroom, stripped off Chloe’s borrowed clothes, and stood under the shower until the hot water turned her skin pink. She dried her hair, applying her makeup with precise, sharp strokes. It felt like putting on war paint.
She slipped into her undergarments and pulled the black velvet dress over her head.