Free The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) by Imani King Page B

and tapping the camera. “Leave me an
e-mail address and I’ll send it to you.”

 
    As we broke apart, I nearly stumbled
back, blown away by what I’d just experienced.

 
    I stared into Gigi’s honey-colored
eyes, my pulse hammering in my throat. Of all the women I’d ever kissed, I had
never felt anything quite like that in my life. But a question bounced around
in my head the longer I looked into her eyes… Was it possible that Gigi felt it
too?

 

 
 
 
    “Let’s get you something to
celebrate,” Dorian said as the two of us stood outside of the courthouse as man
and wife for the first time.

 
    It felt odd being married, though
possibly even more odd had been the ceremony itself and how it felt at least a little romantic, despite the rush we had
put on it.

 
    And that kiss… holy hell. What was
that about?

 
    Before the butterflies in my belly
could claim me again, I focused on the here and now. “What do you mean? Like, go
shopping? Now?”

 
    “Were you planning on being
somewhere?” he asked, smiling. “Let’s call it a wedding present from me to you—my
treat.”

 
    It still felt so strange, the idea
of being bought things—things that I’d never have been able to afford without
Dorian’s money. I felt like I was being spoiled, or set up for some big joke. I
swallowed thickly, putting my anxiety aside for just a moment and letting
myself be spoiled for once in my life.

 
    “That sounds fun,” I said. “I
haven’t been shopping in a long time.”

 
    “We can hammer out a few details
while we’re there and you can try on something sexy for me.” He winked.

 
    “Dorian!” I cried, smacking his arm,
which only elicited a giggle.

 
    “I was joking,” he claimed, holding
up his hands in mock surrender. But then that grin came back full-steam and I
had to stop my knees from turning to Jell-O as he added, “Mostly.”

 
    It was a short walk down the street
to Monica’s, one of the city’s priciest boutiques—and the one that Dorian
insisted that we go into. I’d tried my best to suggest cheaper options, but he
wouldn’t be persuaded.

 
    “No,” he insisted, “you’re going to
buy something really expensive. Something that’s way more expensive than you’d
ever consider buying in your wildest dreams… and then you’re going to walk out
of the store in it.”

 
    I balked. “Dorian,
this is—”

 
    “Your life now,” he interrupted.
“You’re officially rich, Gigi, so you’re going to learn to act like it—at least
a little.”

 
    I sighed and finally relented,
letting him take me by the hand and drag me into the shop.

 
    I’d never even thought of stepping
foot in Monica’s before that moment, even just to dream of all the things that
I could buy if I ever had the money. The fact that I did have the money now only made the moment more awkward—none of
this stuff looked like anything I’d
ever wear.

 
    For the past couple of years I’d
worn slacks, a blouse, and a jacket every day to work—heck, I owned two dresses
including the one I was wearing, and I don’t think I owned even one skirt. I wasn’t a tomboy by any
stretch of the imagination, but wearing anything overly flirty or feminine
always seemed to draw the compliments I desperately wanted to avoid. And then
there was the way that clothes like that always brought the eye right to my
figure.

 
    A figure I wasn’t proud of.

 
    I wasn’t bad. Not really. But I
wasn’t a model, either, and I definitely had some “junk in the trunk,” to put
it crassly. I’d never been the beanpole all the guys were drooling over, and
I’d never felt… Special… With all these fancy clothes surrounding me, I felt
like I didn’t belong.

 
    “I’m not really sure about this,
Dorian. I’m not really a dress kind of girl.”

 
    Dorian eyed me. “Is that because you
don’t like them, or you just don’t think you look good in them?”

 
    “I…” I