Flames

Killer in Heels, part 1

(Author's note: It's changed a little bit since I posted the sneak peek, but I hope you still like it!)

A six-hour signing at a convention. An appearance at the MTV Movie and TV Awards show. And then, mere hours later, competing at a wrestling event. It was a full schedule, but Becky kept reminding herself that she willingly signed up for it all. Part of being The Man meant being in demand. Truth be told, it wasn't that bad. The signing was long, sure, but full of enthusiastic fans, people who had been supporting her for years; the wrestling match would be the same. The awards show would be new territory for her, and another chance for her to prove herself.

Becky took her awards-show dress off the hanger and spread it out on the hotel bed, as careful as if she were carrying delicate glass. When she sent a picture of the dress to her mother, she had to explain that it was indeed a complete outfit and not just a blazer with a frilly bottom that looked like a tutu. To be honest, she wasn't entirely convinced herself, but she had worked with the stylist before and Charlotte, Bayley, Sasha, and Naomi had all heartily endorsed the dress.

Seth, of course, was a fan of it too, which was why it was still on the bed. She didn't want to risk having it damaged before the awards show, so she was planning to put it on at the last moment. It was too warm to walk around the hotel room in a heavy robe, though, so she was wearing only the bra and panties that had been specially chosen for the outfit: the bra would likely peek out and be spotted in photos, but she was hoping her underwear would not. Any of the MTV awards shows were a more casual affair than most, but she didn't want to be the next wardrobe malfunction laugh for the internet at large.

"Put the heels on." Seth's tone was strangely flat, as if he weren't getting enough air, and Becky turned to find him watching her from the bathroom doorway, where he had been getting ready. His outfit was simple—a sleek black dress shirt and matching pants—but they would match nicely, and she would never complain about seeing him in all black. The shirt was still unbuttoned all the way down and when Becky's gaze crept down his chest, she noticed that the button on his pants was also undone. The hotel room had suddenly gone from warm to hot.

"What?" Becky tried tearing her gaze away from the dark strip of hair beneath his navel, but it took her a good long moment. When she did, the look in his eyes was heady enough to make her breath catch. They had been dating for a few months now and the novelty of how covetous he could be hadn't worn off yet. Maybe it never would, and she wasn't sure that was a bad thing.

Seth prowled a few steps closer. "Put the heels on," he repeated, the husky bass in his voice making Becky shiver.

"Seth." Becky cursed herself for not putting on the robe. She probably would have overheated but when Seth got that look in his eyes, any plans they had tended to fly out the window. "We're supposed to leave in an hour—"

He stopped just in front of her, their bodies barely touching. "Please." The lone word rumbled deep in his chest as he cupped Becky's jaw with one hand and tilted her face up to his. "The heels. Put them on."

An hour was a lot of time, Becky reasoned, and their hotel was close to where the awards show was being held, purposefully chosen so they would be able to make the house show later that day. It wouldn't—well, shouldn't—take her that long to get dressed. And whatever Seth had in mind was likely to calm her nerves, or at least override them. Taking a shaky step back, Becky bent to get her shoebox from the floor, but Seth beat her to it. Kneeling in front of her, he took the right shoe from the box and held it in place, gaze steady on hers. Becky gripped his shoulders lightly to keep her balance as she stepped into right shoe and then the left. "Seth, we can't ruin the bra," she cautioned, letting out a sigh as he started to kiss his way up her leg. "Or the panties. I don't have anything else with me that will work under the dress. . . ."