"Got it." I hung up, and absentmindedly almost rubbed a frustrated hand across my face, when I gasped and quickly pulled it back.

Two-hour worth of makeup getting wiped off my face was the last thing I wanted right now. My feet already hurt from too much pacing.

My anxiety was at its peak, clawing up my neck, churning in my stomach, giving me a restless feet syndrome.

This was a totally bad idea. Parties were not for me. Socializing was not my thing. I had been to hardly two parties in my whole entire life and it was not even this grand.

Why had I even agreed to this one?

Not just any party. A goddamn masquerade ball. Where rich people wore masks, talked shit about and with one another, and danced around for hours until their toes fell off.

I plopped down on my new bed with a sigh. Puffing out a breath in hopes that it would suck all my social anxiety out of my body.

It shouldn't be that hard. I had a beautiful dress, Niall was my date, Chloe had called me seven times in the last three hours to make sure I had everything I needed, or to simply check up on me, and Ian would be there too.

Yes, Ian will be there.

Last night, I had just managed to keep the disappointment off my face when Ian had left. I wanted to ask him to stay. But I was the one who suggested he should go and get some rest. He did look like he would argue, but he didn't. And after six months of rolling in that creaky bed of that hotel, last night I had the best sleep of my life. I slept like a baby, and woke up feeling so fresh that I managed to unpack and arrange all my clothes and shoes in the closet.

I stole a look at the pair of black glossy shoes seated toward a corner of the room. A golden metallic serpent circled around the ankle and up my leg. And the same metallic gold coated the stumps holding the heels to the ground. My favorite one.

The best one in my collection.

A smile drew across my face as I tried and imagined Ian's reaction when he would see them. I wondered whether he'd get the hint. If he'd be just as eager to take them off me as he was yesterday. That image solely pushed me off the bed, as I walked toward the gown hanging from the open closet door, and ran my fingers over the mesh. It was one of those dreamy gowns every girl wanted to have in her closet. And I had it now.

Well, at least for a few hours.

I had even matched my lipstick with the blood red of the gown. Whatever happened, I would be enjoying tonight, even though my anxiety was already arguing otherwise.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, distracting me from the dress, and I quickly picked it up. It was a text from Chloe. Again.

: Hey! How's it going?

: So far, so good.

: Did you put on the dress? Fitting is good? Okay? Is the zipper stuck or something?

I bit my lip, trying to hold my mind back from wandering off to the dressing room scene the other day when the zipper was actually "stuck".

: Nope. I am yet to dress up. But I'll be fine. Thank you :)

: Okay. Niall will pick you up at six thirty. We'll meet directly at the party. All good?

: Yep. All good :)

I tossed the phone on my bed with a smile, and started toward the dress when suddenly, I froze. Niall was going to pick me up?

Shit.

Neither Niall nor Chloe were aware of my move. It all happened so fast that I could not mention about it to anyone. And even if I wanted to, how was I supposed to tell them I moved to Ian's place? It would have made things so awkward for Ian and me. I could only imagine Chloe's hurt reaction because I kept another secret from her.

I mentally face-palmed myself. Now Niall would be heading to the hotel, to pick me up.

Quickly turning around, I picked up my phone again.

Wait, whom am I supposed to text, and what?

I contemplated texting Chloe because of obvious reasons. Then my fingers hovered over Niall's contact. Maybe I could directly text him this address, and explain everything to him once we were ready to go. Eventually, I ended up clicking on the only contact I could think of other than the previous two.

: Hi, we might have a situation.

I sent the text, and stared at the phone screen for the next seven minutes. Counting every second. And sighed out of relief when a reply popped up.

: Hey, what's wrong? You alright?

: I'm fine. But Niall is gonna pick me up for the party. I haven't told him about my move. Have you?

: Well, no. Not yet.

Not yet? So, he planned on telling them himself.

: So...you gonna tell them today?

His reply didn't come instantly and I almost assumed that he was already off to his siblings, when my phone buzzed with a notification.

: Not today. Stay home, I'll come and get you.

Oh.

I stared at the screen until the display went dark, and then pressed it against my chest. Suddenly, my heart was frantically running a hundred miles per second, and the boost of adrenaline was enough to set me into motion. I tossed the phone onto the bed and grabbed the dress.

It took me approximately seven minutes to put on the beautiful, but difficult dress, and when I was done (almost), I was out of breath. My fingers had managed to pull the zipper half way up without damaging the gown. Good. Just a little more, and I would be done. I picked up the front of the gown, and sat myself down on the bed to catch a breath. There was an ache spreading up my forearm because of all the struggling.

Why can't gowns be simple and easy like dresses?

I hunched my back and sighed, before taking a deep breath.

Come-on Maeve, you can do it.

Nodding to myself, I stood up and walked to the full-length mirror beside the closet. Reaching behind me, I took a hold of the zipper and pulled it up. It didn't move. I pulled it again. It didn't even budge a millimeter. Maybe it was because of my stomach and the two cups of coffee and a banana inside. Dang it.

I sucked in my stomach and pulled the zipper up, but it hardly moved, giving me more ache in my shoulders.

"You could ask for help, you know?"

I let out a weird shriek and slapped a hand against my chest to stifle the remaining, the other hand coming up to my stomach. He really had to stop appearing out of the blue like that.

Ian stared at me through the mirror, smiling as if he didn't just make me jump out of my skin.

"Gosh, Ian," I let out a nervous chuckle.

How did he get here in under ten minutes?

"Hi." He said, still smiling. "You seem to be struggling a little. Need a hand with that?" He arched an eyebrow, looking more amused then concerned.

Oh, playful psychiatrist.

I rolled my eyes, and brushed my neatly curled hair behind my shoulder. "Thanks, but no. I can manage." I wasn't feeding his stupid male ego.

Ian made a face of approval-or challenge-and leaned against the bedroom door frame, folding his arms across his chest. "Okay, go on."

Unconsciously, my eyes trailed down on him and then, slightly widened.

He was wearing a goddamn tuxedo.

A deadly combination of black and white hugging his muscular upper body that knocked the living breath out of my lungs. His usually fluffy hair was slicked back, making him look the sexy psychiatrist one would fantasize about. That I would fantasize about.

Maybe I knew why he saved that look for such special occasions. Because going around looking like that was definitely illegal.

I dragged my gaze up his body, and found his eyes on me.

"How did you get here so fast?" I asked, my fingers not-so-concentratedly working on the zipper.

Ian tilted his head, tongue running along the seam of his lower lip, as his eyes fell on my half-bare back. "I was already on my way, when you texted me."

Of course he was.

I shook my head and chuckled as my hands fell to my sides again. Numb. Okay, I needed help.

I lifted my eyes to Ian, and he was still standing there, against the door frame, looking so deliciously handsome that I wanted to pounce on him, and tackle him to the floor.

Not ideal in a ball gown, I know.

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch? Come and help me." I said, and watched as his eyes travelled up from my back to my face. A little smirk tugged his lips up.

"Maybe I will," he leaned off the doorframe, taking slow, lazy steps toward me. His eyes never left mine as he stopped right behind me, his hard chest pressing against my back. "If you ask nicely."

I snorted, folding my arms across my chest. "Pull the damn zipper up, Cole. We don't have all night."

He raised an eyebrow at me, taken aback by my politeness. Shaking his head in visible amusement, he moved my hair over my shoulder and reached for the zipper. His fingers slipped into the dress and rested against my skin. "I respectfully disagree."

My skin heated up instantly when his fingers started stroking the skin on my lower back purposely. Back and forth, back and forth.

"What is that supposed to mean?" My voice was all breathy as I asked the question, arms lowering to my sides again.

"It means that we can have the whole night, if right now," he leaned down, lips brushing against my ears. "I decide to pull this zipper down, instead of up."

And he did.

He pushed the zipper-and my minutes long worth of efforts-all the way down, and the front of the gown slipped from my chest. I grabbed it before my boobs popped out, with a surprised gasp.

Good Lord.

"Ian,"

"Shh..." His hands slipped inside the dress, circling around my waist in a deliciously slow caress. Skin on skin. I shivered, still trying to hold his stare and familiarize myself with the incredible feeling of his bare hands on my body. "We can do this, whole night." His eyes held an inviting challenge as he kneaded my sides with his experienced fingers.

I liked this side of him. It was so dangerous. Something I was very willing to throw myself into right now. So I dared.

"What would happen then?"

Ian smiled, a sexy, almost warning-laced smile. Then grabbed my sides and roughly thrusted me against his body, making me suck in a sharp breath. So close, so hard. Enough that I felt the heat of his body through the layers of his clothes.

He was hot. Literally.

"Something we both would want to happen." His voice vibrated over the skin below my ear and I squirmed under the force of that brutal truth.

I did want it to happen. Whatever it was according to his description.

"And what about the party?" I was breathless, leaning against him for support. If it was not for his hands holding me upright, I would have melted to the ground like a pulp. My hand came up and slipped into his slicked hair, as I let my newly-done nails graze his scalp, all the way to his nape.

Ian groaned against my ear, and tightened his fingers on my skin, so much that I was sure it would leave a mark. "Fuck the party. I'd rather be occupied between your legs."

A strangled sound left me, heat throbbing between my legs and fingers tightening around his nape. His words nearly undid me. I ducked my head, biting my lips. My face was on fire. My brain was fogged up. There were only his words and the effect it had on me.

"Gosh, Ian," I felt the heat crawling up my face as I raised my head and rested it back against his shoulder. "Please...just-"

"I did not know you were capable of blushing, until recently." He said, taking my earlobe between his teeth, sending a shock of electricity coursing straight down my spine. "Is it the dirty talking? You like it when I tell you what I want to do to you, hm?"

An unwilling sound of approval left my lips. My hand found its way over the dress, to his that was underneath, and I tried to dig up my conscience that had been buried under the haze of this situation.

The ball. The party. Chloe. Niall.

I sighed, and opened my eyes to see my own flushed face in the mirror. Ian's head was buried in my hair, but his eyes-Oh God, his eyes- they were open. Watching me. Like a predator.

"Maybe save it for later." I said, trying to fight the urge of accepting his tempting offer.

Ian closed his eyes for a moment, and then smiled.

"I'd take that as a yes." He briefly pressed a kiss against my hair before withdrawing his hands from my dress. He adjusted my dress back to its place and then pulled the zipper up. His hands came back at my waist and rested there, as he lowered his head, whispering into my ears.

"Just so you're aware," our eyes locked through the mirror again. "I'm planning on taking you in front of this mirror someday. That is if you want to-"

I groaned. "Ian!"

He chuckled, pressing another kiss against my hair. "I'll wait outside. Its clearly very distracting being alone with you here."

I looked away and let out a little smile as Ian walked backward, staring at me for a heartbeat longer. As he turned and left the bedroom, I pressed my lips together, then my legs, feeling myself turning into a hot blushing mess.

In front of the mirror? Hmm...

In the next fifteen minutes, I retouched my makeup, slipped on the glorious shoes, fixed my hair, added some golden accessories to compliment the attire, and then took a final look at myself in the mirror.

Not to brag, but I did look like a princess. Or maybe a witch, considering the shoes. If I had the choice, though, I would go with the latter one. Who wanted good boring when you could be bad sexy?

I picked up the front of the dress and made my way out of the bedroom.

Ian was standing beside the living room couch, facing away from me. I tried to sneak up but the click clack of my heels was too loud in the quiet room.

He turned around upon hearing it and ran his eyes all over me, drinking me in. They briefly lingered over the heels and I saw the corner of his lips twitch, as I stopped before him. His pupils dilated in unmasked wonder and I was distantly aware of my heart speeding up, awaiting his compliment.

It didn't come instantly.

Instead, he reached for my hand, bringing it up to his lips, and planted a soft kiss over my knuckles; setting off a flutter in my chest.

"You take my breath away, sweetheart." His lips landed on my temple. "I could watch you all day." I bit down on my lips to suppress the stupid grin. His eyes fell down to the heels again, and I saw the smirk crawl up his perfect lips. My stomach coiled in delight. "The best ones, hm?" He asked, and I gladly let the blush creep up my face this time.

He got the hint.