Little Black Dress (Beech Grove Book 7)

by Mayra Statham

  LITTLE BLACK DRESS

  A BEECH GROVE BOOK

  MAYRA STATHAM

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  More Books by Mayra

  Copyright © 2019 by Mayra Statham

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image: Deposit Photos

  Cover Work: Dark Water Covers

  Editing: Julia Goda of Diamond in the Rough Editing

  Fomatting: Dark Water Covers

  Created with Vellum

  BLURB

  All I was looking for was a good time, and thanks to my little black dress, it looks like I hooked Enzo Carlino’s attention.

  He’s a grown man with a wicked sense of humor and glimmer in his eyes that promises he can deliver a memorable night.

  One night of fun turns into two, and now I don’t know what to do. I’m a school teacher, not a regular LBD-wearing minx. Can one night of fun turn into a forever?

  If all else fails and you don't know what to wear, put on a black dress, and you'll be happy.

  —Lily Donaldson

  CHAPTER ONE

  GINNY BLACK

  I FELT like an idiot as I stepped out and waved goodbye to my very polite Lyft driver. I stood straight and shimmied the skirt of the dress I’d worn as low as the short skirt would go.

  I couldn’t believe I’d let Lydia, my best friend, talk me into wearing this dress out in public.

  But that was our friendship. We balanced one another out. She was the one to push me when I needed to get out of my box and live a little. I, on the other hand, was the voice of reason when she got a crazy hair up her butt about doing something spontaneous. Not that I ever stopped her; I just helped her find a plan instead of diving off the cliff.

  The dress was tight and short and probably a decade too young for me, but she had promised until she was blue in the face that it looked good on me. And in that moment, already two glasses of wine in, I’d dared believing her and the magic of the sexy little black dress.

  Friday night with Valentine’s Day around the corner, tonight was my night.

  I was unashamedly on the prowl. Well, maybe ninety-eight percent unashamed. The other two percent were cynical and very much alive, doubting my ass could stay hidden beneath the bodycon dress that definitely looked better on a co-ed model online with firmer thighs and perkier boobs and toned ass.

  But I needed tonight.

  Tonight was my very own Valentine’s Day present to myself.

  Monday, life would be back to normal. Busy, my hands full with my fifth-grade class creating glittered-up heart-shaped Valentine’s Day cards for their parents, and I would probably have to stay after school for an extra hour, vacuuming up the mess, only to get home after dark to an empty apartment. I’d kick off my shoes, throw on an oversized hoodie and leggings, throw my long blonde hair up in a bun, and smirk into my glass of red wine over whatever I did tonight as I graded papers.

  I needed something to smirk into my glass about.

  I hadn’t had a smirk-worthy moment in forever.

  I needed something that would make me ache at the reminder and tempt me to take out my vibrating buddy from my underwear drawer. It’d been too long.

  I was thirty-something, single, and hadn’t had sex in longer than I wanted to admit.

  But tonight… tonight was going to be different.

  Come hell or high water, I was going to make things happen tonight. Just for you, my best friend Lydia had said as she had helped me get ready.

  Tonight is just for you. My bestie’s words floated in my head, and I smiled.

  Just for me.

  With that simple reminder, I swayed my hips back and forth as I walked. My head held up high, shoulders back, I was determined to fake the confidence I was trying to exude as I passed the line of twenty-somethings waiting to get into the industrial-looking building.

  I strolled right up to the door, ignoring the hushed murmurs of those waiting, a fifty-dollar bill in my hand. The handsome bulked-up bouncer looked me up and down and winked.

  “Damn, girl.” He whistled. “You are looking like fire.” He winked, lifting the velvet rope. I patted his shoulder, slipping the bill into his front jacket pocket. “They won’t know what hit them. Have a good time, baby,” he said, letting me walk right past him.

  The air was thick and warm as I got deeper and deeper into the club.

  “Just for me,” I whispered to myself despite the music’s deep bass beating roaring around me.

  I walked directly to the bar and slid onto an empty bar stool and waited on getting the bartender’s attention.

  Surprisingly, it didn’t take long. A feat all on its own since I normally didn’t make anyone look twice in my direction. Then again, I didn’t wear a little black dress in the drop-off zone of the school I worked at.

  I smiled and leaned forward, not missing the way the blond guy’s eyes moved toward my cleavage, and I silently thanked Lydia for nagging me to wear my good bra. The girls were very perky and out saying hello to the world in the sling shot I’d squeezed them into.

  “What can I get you, beautiful?” he asked as he leaned in dangerously close, and I smiled.

  The guy was about my age, maybe three years younger than me max, and even though he was probably working on scoring a good tip, it was an ego boost to not only be called beautiful but feel seen.

  I realized as I stared into his light amber eyes, I never felt seen.

  Especially when my normal day-to-day felt like I was part of everyone else’s backdrop.

  How pathetic was that?

  “Whatever top-shelf tequila you have, on the rocks, please,” I said, trying to shake off the thoughts I’d just had.

  “You got it, gorgeous.” He winked, patting the bar before moving toward the bottles on the wall.

  “I like a woman who knows what she wants,” a seductive and very masculine voice said directly behind me. A shiver ran down my back. “I’ll have the same. Add hers to my tab,” the masculine voice said to the bartender, and I exhaled slowly. Holy crap. Someone was buying me a drink. That hadn’t happened since my college days, and even then, it was because I was with Lydia and whatever shmuck was flirting with her thought he’d score points buying her girl a drink.

  The man sat next to me. His body heat radiated off him, and I wanted to be wrapped up in it, despite not knowing what he looked like. My luck, he would be a goober, though perhaps, fingers crossed, he had a great personality.

  I wasn’t ready to give in to the temptation of looking at him just yet. I was too worried the only thing enticing about him would be the seductive tone of his voice. Though, beggars couldn’t be choosy, and I could totally work with a sexy voice. It wasn’t like I wanted someone to p
ut a ring on it. I just wanted one night.

  “Drinks say a lot about a person,” he said just loud enough for only me to hear him.

  “You think so?” I asked, never taking my eyes off the bartender making our drinks.

  “I know so,” he arrogantly replied, and I heard a hint of a smile in his velvety-rich voice.

  “And what do you think mine says about me?” I asked, finally turning to look at him, braced and ready not to really like what I would see. But the opposite happened. I was not prepared for all that he was.

  Holy Godiva chocolate.

  His photograph was probably found under the tall, dark, and handsome section of the dictionary.

  In the dim club, his eyes looked like onyx. Jet-black hair that looked sexy and disheveled, like he had run his hands through it all day long. It looked soft and just long enough to tug slightly. His face was rugged, not classically handsome, but stunning nonetheless. Tan olive skin and incredible cheekbones that could probably cut glass. His brows were full and manly, as was his nose. All of it alone would be amazing, but you threw in the way he smelled and dressed, and he was on a whole other level.

  A.K.A. out of my league.

  “Tequila takes balls. Guts. You’re daring,” he said, tilting his head slightly, and I could feel his eyes on me. “Or at least you want to be tonight,” he shared, and I bit the inside of my lip. He wasn’t wrong. “Top-shelf means you know the difference between the good and the bad stuff, and you don’t mind treating yourself.”

  “You’re paying for the drink,” I pointed out.

  “You ordered it before you knew I was behind you and going to offer to pay for it.”

  “True.” My lips twitched.

  “Here you go,” the bartender said, snapping us out of our conversation.

  He made quick work of setting our drinks on the club’s coasters, a napkin beside it.

  “Limes?” The bartender asked, and we both shook our heads. I liked that.

  The sexy stranger signed the receipt, and the bartender quickly moved down the bar to other awaiting patrons.

  “Do you want to hear more?” he asked, and I was tempted to tell him he could read me the phone book for all I cared. I liked his voice that much.

  “Lay it on me,” I said, shifting my body slightly so our thighs touched. The solid muscle behind his thigh was hot and sending electric sparks throughout my body, jolting dirty thoughts of rubbing myself up against him like a cat.

  “On the rocks means you’re responsible. Neat. You know how to take things at the right speed,” he noted, and I fought the urge to squirm.

  “You got all that from one drink?” I asked, my voice slightly raspy.

  “Hmm… was I wrong?” he asked, and I shrugged, not trusting my voice or what I’d say. He wasn’t far off the mark.

  “Enzo Carlino.” He extended his hand, and I licked my lips before smiling, letting my hand meet to his.

  “Ginny Black.”

  “Irish?” he guessed, and I smiled, enjoying the warmth of his hand.

  “Not really.” I laughed. “You really want to know about my name?”

  “I want to know anything you want to tell me.”

  “My dad loved Guinness. It’s as close as my mom would let him get name-wise.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m Italian,” he shared, and I nodded.

  “I guessed that with the name Enzo.”

  “Right? It’s a dead giveaway.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his tequila, his eyes never moving off mine.

  “It’s sexy,” I let slip out and didn’t mind the way my cheeks burned, and his brows rose and dropped.

  “Thank you. Nowhere on the level that you are though,” he flirted, and I laughed, shaking my head.

  “You’re smooth, Mr. Carlino.” Nervous but excited energy was flowing through me, so I picked up my drink. I let the cool liquid warm me up from inside out. I loved tequila.

  “Would you like to dance, Miss Black? Or is there a boyfriend or group of girlfriends lurking in the shadows about to whisk you away?”

  “I’m alone.”

  “No boyfriend?” he asked, and I wondered if it was just my imagination, but he almost sounded surprised. I shook my head as I looked at him over the rim of my glass. “My lucky night,” he muttered before standing up and extending his hand. “Dance with me.”

  “I’d love to.” I took one last healthy drink of my tequila and hopped off the barstool.

  Fixing my dress, I stood to my full height and realized how much bigger he was than me when I turned around and had him right in front of me. My hand still in his, he brought it up to his lips, and I felt the plush pillows of his mouth on my skin.

  “So soft,” he mumbled against my skin, and a quiet tremble raced down my spine.

  His dark sultry gaze made me want to do something crazy.

  Insane.

  And wasn’t that what tonight was all about?

  I stopped walking, and he looked behind him. His eyes pinned me in place as he moved in close.

  “Changed your mind about dancing?” His brow rose, and I shook my head.

  Just for me, I reminded myself.

  “Why don’t we dance somewhere a little… quieter?” I dared and was relieved when I saw something light up in his eyes.

  “I like quieter,” he said, pulling up close. His body flush against mine, there was no hiding the growing bulge between us, and it added to the buzz my sole drink helped catapult. My body was alive and sparkling. It felt like an electric current had roped and bonded us together. God, the thought of being tied up and at his mercy had me clenching my thighs together, looking for relief from the empty ache I was suddenly very aware of.

  “Quiet can be very good,” I muttered, my breath hitching in the middle of my throat.

  His handsome face dipped lower, and we shared one another’s breath, his scent filling my lungs, and I wanted him more than I had wanted anything in my entire life. His nose skimmed mine, and my eyes fluttered half closed.

  “If we leave, Ginny, you gotta know I’m going to do everything in my power to make you scream,” he warned, and I smiled.

  “I can’t say I don’t like the idea of that.” I licked my lips and touched his. He was that close.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine.

  His taste blossomed in my mouth, and God, I wanted more. As if reading my thoughts, he moved his hands to the back of my head and into my hair. He held me like I belonged to him, and at that moment I did.

  “Enzo,” I whispered against his lips. My body felt like it was on fire, achy with need. All from just one kiss.

  “Beautiful,” he rasped, “you can change your mind.” He thought I was changing my mind? “We can dance, get another drink, and get to know one another. We don’t have to rush this,” he muttered against my lips. We were still breathing each other’s air, and there was intimacy about it.

  He thought I was hesitating, and like a freaking gentleman, he was giving me an out. If I was looking for more than a memorable moment, I would overthink his words, dissecting them, and probably end up reading more into them than he meant.

  Instead, I took a step back and looked right at him.

  “Take me somewhere quiet,” I ordered.

  A small voice in my head cheered and hooted. Little black dress magic was working its thing, and I was on fire.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ENZO CARLINO

  FUCK.

  The woman in front of me was a walking, talking temptation, and I was utterly and completely screwed.

  Just like she would be by the end of the night if I had anything to say about it.

  “You sure?” I asked, my voice low as I dipped my mouth to her ear.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she smelled delicious. My nose flared, and something that sounded like a growl bubbled through me as I inhaled her perfume. I wanted her scent ingrained in me, and fuck, that was the last thing
I needed.

  I’d finally ended things with Karen before the holiday season had even started. I’d put up with a lot, but catching her in the act with our gardener between her legs scoping out her landscaping had been the last straw.

  No.

  The fact I hadn’t given a shit other than felt relief I could cut her out for good had been the last straw.

  We’d both moved out, selling the place we’d called a home within a week of breaking it off. She hadn’t seemed too torn up about it either. I’d moved my ass into one of my business apartments downtown. My business partners and best friends, Frank and Jasper, had been supportive and a little surprised. Karen and I had been together since college. I was single for the first time in eighteen years. The bright side had been we had never got married. She’d never pushed for it, and I finally got why.

  We weren’t meant to be.

  We’d just been too scared to let go of what was familiar.

  Now, I was in a club a block away from my corporate apartment and staring into the eyes of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. A woman who had caught my eye as she’d strutted her hot ass in and sat down at the bar. A woman who I felt drawn to like a moth to flame. No other woman had ever had that effect on me. Ever.

  “Enzo?” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I took hold of her hand and hurried out of the club.

  I was thirty-nine.

  A grown-ass man who always had control of his dick. Well, I did before I’d set my eyes on the little minx in that sexy little excuse for a dress. Now, he had a mind of his own, acting like a damn laser beam pointing in her direction.

  I’d been hard from the moment I sat next to her and caught a hint of her scent. Jesus, I was worried the way she smelled would unman me. Make me a fucking addict looking for his next hit. And I’d spent a max of fifteen minutes with her. What the hell was my problem?

  We stepped out into the cool night through the patio of the club. I led the way to the side of building, and when I got to a spot hidden enough from those hanging out outside, I pushed her against the brick wall. Without missing a beat, my body covered hers, and I kissed her.