I take the three dresses recalling his request to wear the red one first and smile. That game needs two players, baby. I drape them in the aligned nails in the changing room and choose the least short, the black one. I stare at myself for a few seconds in the interior mirror before I draw the curtain. Corbyn appears to lean his body up from the wall. He rolls his eyes chuckling.

"Of course," I smile, innocently, at him. I spin and look at the bigger mirror that reflects my whole form. It's shorter than most of my dresses, but it's chic.

"What do you think?"

"I like it. What about you trying the red one, now?" I flicker my eyelashes to irritate him yet it has the exact opposite effects on him; he tips his head as his eyes drink all of me in. They darken causing me to break eye contact and vanish into the room again. I pick the white one.

"I don't like it," I step outside with a pout. Corbyn raises an eyebrow.

"Is this payback?" He snickers and I'm glad the humor didn't get lost in him.

"Yea," I agree. I indicate my dress. "Well?"

"The color is fine but I prefer the black one. And probably the red one, if you try it on," I stick my tongue out and giggle before I decide it's time to end my torturing game.

I gape at my mirror, speechless. My eyes follow the curves of my body; the dress is the shorter I have ever worn. It ends high at my thighs, as all my legs, knees and most of my thighs are naked. I like dresses that end in the middle; this is way too short.

"Amelia," Corbyn's voice makes me jerk fearfully. There's no way I will leave this clothing store in this dress.

"Yea?" I bite my lip and take a deep breath, I decide to pull the curtain. Maybe he won't approve of it; I hope. I step out of the safety of the curtain, slowly and hesitantly, sensing my cheeks flame. The sound of the tug of the curtain makes Corbyn's eyes look up from his phone screen. The frown that was decorating his brow, vanishes at the sight of me. My insides clench.

"Oh, my God, you look so beautiful and sexy, honey," The brunette assistant praises as her lips reveal a broad grin. "You just need the right heels, it will be divine," I smile in appreciation at her words and glance towards Corbyn. His eyes seem to be glued to my body as they wander up and down my figure. His pupils are dilated and my cheeks burn, even more, when I sense their darkening gaze pierce through me. His mouth is slack, yet, I read the movement of his red kissable lips as they curse, mutely, forming the world fuck.

"Mary," The assistant's head whips around, before, her legs drive her outside of my peripheral vision. Corbyn leans up from the wall he has supported his weight and walks towards me with slow, somehow, seductive steps. His eyes gaze at my body the whole time before they browse up and meet mine.

"Do you like it?" I mutter. He hums as a response to my question and a hint of smile tugs at his lips. "I was thinking..."

"I'm buying that one," He whispers and his voice is raspier than usual, like all those times we got closer as if the desire affects his voice on a fundamental level.

"I liked the black one,"

"Yea, that too," I frown as his eyes are too busy staring at my dress to lock with mine for more than a moment.

"I don't think I will buy it," His eyes shoot to mine at an angelic speed that makes me dizzy.

"Why not?"

"It's too short. I won't be able to get out wearing this,"

"Yea, we might have a problem with that. This is why this dress comes with rules."

"Rules?" I scoff.

"You only wear it with me." He orders.

"Territorial much?" I smirk.

"I don't like strangers gawking at you or douchebags throwing themselves at my girl," He softly reasons and my heart flips at the words; my girl.

"I will pay,"

"No,"

"The black one, then,"

"No,"

"Corbyn," I cry exasperatedly.

"Is everything alright? Would you like to see something else?" The woman emerges from Corbyn's shoulder.

"No, we are good. The red and black one,"

"Excellent choice," She beams. "I will deliver them to the cashier," Corbyn smirks when he turns to me. He places a chaste kiss on my lips and disappears.

I stand in front of a cashier, a wooden surface, which upon are placed my dresses. The moment she asks for the payment Corbyn offers her his credit card. She takes it between her painted nails instead of mine which she chooses to ignore. I roll my eyes puffing and avoiding Corbyn's glare. She places our bag on the desk between us.

"Thank you," She grins. Corbyn takes it in his hands before he begins heading towards the glassy doors.

"Actually, I would like your help for something else," I murmur.

"Of course,"

"Do you have black leather jackets?" Her nod makes my heart flutter. I follow her glancing sideways, from the corner of my eyes, at a frozen Corbyn. "I was thinking the combination with a white shirt under it to contrast,"

"It's the best choice with the black jacket,"

"What are you doing?" Corbyn asks and I swirl around grinning.

"You bought for me and, now, I'm buying for you,"

"Black leather jacket?" He doubts.

"Yea, you look like a bad boy in it," A smirk, seductively, unfolds on his irresistible lips and before he can witness my red cheeks, I walk the other way towards the shop assistant who has reached the jacket section. I pick the right size and a thin white shirt under it. I hand it to my angel and take the bag from his hands.

"The dressing rooms are that way." I smile. I don't miss the way his eyes are staring at me as if I'm a magical creature that he has no absolute idea of what it's going to do next. "Don't stall," I add as he stands before me. He chuckles rocking his head and walks to the room. I bite my lip to suppress the broad grin that threatens to split my mouth into two.

"We are buying those two," I tell the helpful woman offering her a smile and my credit card. By the time Corbyn exits the room, she's already packing them. My smile falls as my insides turn to liquid.

The black leather jacket hugs his upper body seductively, showing, somehow, his worked-out figure and arms. Though, the white shirt under it lightens up with the whole outfit reminding me the reason I call him my angel. He resembles a bad boy, the valid and wild personification of a bad boy, of utter trouble, that I should stay clear of, hundreds of miles away. Yet, in this case, I wouldn't mind getting interlocked between his black dangerous arms and intentions. I would even beg.

It's a dream.

He strides towards me not caring to even check himself in the mirror first; with every step he takes closer, I sense it shifting something in me as if each step vibrates through me clenching a muscle in me in anticipation. My palms get damp as my cheeks burn when he cocks his head to the side.

"At a loss of words, baby?" He snickers.

"We're buying it," I mutter, so low, that I nearly didn't hear myself. I decide to save myself from the torturing yet sensual tension that gets born and radiates between us, and flee. He doesn't approve. His arms wrap me trapping me between them.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"You didn't say anything for my red dress either," I retaliate. He nods as if he considers my challenge before he, finally, accepts it.

"Well, what if I say that I couldn't take my eyes off of you?" He whispers and everything within me melts at his words as his eyes penetrate me. "You looked stunning and...sexy," My heart flutters at his words as my cheeks burn. I bite my bottom lip as I sense all the effects of his fire flame my cells, leaving me hopeless by a pure desire for my bad boy.

"Pretty much," He adds. I glance towards our side as she passes my credit card above the bank machine.

"You too," I say. "You look like trouble," I giggle.

"Maybe you should stay away, then,"

"Maybe," I mutter. "Maybe not. I'm in too deep now," His pupils dilate at my words and the glassy blue eyes transform into fuzzy darkening ones. "Oh, and I paid for those,"

He frowns and I see myself giggling at the reflection of myself on his blue ocean eyes.