It’s absolutely perfect.

I close the lid, cradle the box in my arm, and I lift my free hand. A cab stops in front of me. As the taxi waits in New York traffic, I send a thank you via text to Jax. He doesn’t respond. For some reason, I open the lid again. It isn’t until I take the mask out that I see the note.

You’re so full of crap. Good thing I think ahead and knew you wouldn’t remember the ball tonight to save your life.

Leave it to Jax to give me such a romantic gift and ruin it with a simple note. I can picture him in his office writing the note with a smug smile.

As soon as the car pulls up to the curb, I sprint into my building and jump in the cold shower, with only one thought: finding the perfect dress to match the more than perfect mask Jax bought me.

I dry off then wrap a towel in my hair and make my way to my dresser to fetch a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. Comfy is always best when I’m on a shopping mission. I’m slipping on a pair of La Perla panties when I hear my front door open. I don’t remember locking it before making a mad dash to the shower. I freeze mid step and wait . . .

I know the rational response would be to finish dressing to see who just walked in here, or better yet, lock my bedroom door and hide. I choose neither and decide to wait, naked with one leg in my panties, unable to do anything but close my eyes and stand as still as the Mary and Dickon statue in The Secret Garden in Central Park. Someone turns the door handle.

Maybe if I don’t see them, they won’t see me? Man, why can’t I still be as naive as a child?

My body breaks out in goosebumps and not from the cold. I can feel his gaze on me; I know who I will see. I take a deep breath before opening my eyes to confirm Jax standing in my doorway with a similar white box on steroids in his hands.

As he slowly scans my body, the box drop to the ground. I feel as if its his hands roaming my body instead of his eyes. My body hums with need, need for Jax. In a trance, I drop my arms to my side and welcome the fact that Jax is blatantly staring at me. If he wasn’t so sexy I would laugh. His eyes can’t seem to find a spot to look at, they keep jumping from my boobs, to my flat stomach, to my legs, and finally to my bare pussy.

“Why are you here?” I ask breathlessly.

“I wanted to see your face when you open this,” he says as his gaze roams over me.

I love every second his attention is solely focused on me. I feel like I’m on fire just from him devouring me with his eyes. I feel sexy because of him. When he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, I stare at his mouth. I want to run my tongue over his lips. Who am I kidding, I want to run my tongue over his entire body. I want to trace every line on him with my tongue.

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure it’s going to stop working. I’m positive that he can hear my heart from across the room. I force myself to drag my eyes away from his more than welcoming lips. His gym clothes cling to his sweaty body. Yum, Jax and sweat. I bite my lip as I remember when I licked him clean after practice when I surprised him at NYU. I pause over his rock-hard abs, visible through his wet white shirt. I force my eyes to keep traveling, only to have them stop again at the huge bulge.

Transfixed I continue to stare at his hard on, imagining what it would feel like to have him between my legs again. I gasp at the same time that he steps towards me. I stand here, waiting to see what he will do. After a few more seconds, which feels like hours, he takes the last two steps so that he’s standing right in front of me. I lean my head back so I can look up at his handsome face. The exact second our irises meet, I know he feels it too. And just as suddenly, Jax turns around and walks out of my bedroom without uttering a single word.

Stunned, I stand here like an idiot and listen to my front door open, close, and him locking it with his key. I don’t know how long I wait in my room with one leg still in my panties, but eventually I pull them into place. Reluctantly I saunter over to the gigantic box that Jax carelessly dropped. So much for seeing my face while I open it. Sitting Indian-style, I stare at the box as if it’s a bomb. I think I know what’s in it, and if I’m right, then I don’t want to open it.

Manning up, I slowly lift the lid and peel the tissue paper away. My breath catches at the exquisite Monique Lhuillier gown. I hold the dress up to reveal an embroidered cap sleeve gown in the exact shade of turquoise as my mask and with gold embroidery on the entire dress. It has a tiered train with tiny green flecks on the bottom. It matches my mask perfectly!

Carefully I lay the dress down across the bed before returning to the box on the floor. Shuffling around the tissue paper, I find what I knew would be there. Another notecard in Jax’s handwriting.

This dress will not do you justice . . . I still look forward to seeing how beautiful you make this dress look tonight though.

I almost melt at his words, but then I remember the little incident that just took place. I hate this hot and cold game Jax always plays with me. I’m tempted to wear another dress just to spite him, but this one is so amazing that it deserves a night out. And okay, I kinda want to see Jax’s face when he sees me in it tonight.

I rummage through my dresser and grab the first oversized shirt I see, realizing it’s one of Jax’s old soccer jerseys that I’ve collected over the years. I contemplate switching it out for another one, but quickly dismiss that idea. There’s something about wearing his clothing that relaxes me; however, tonight it does the exact opposite. Instead of feeling the calm that his presence brings me, even if it’s via an old shirt, I feel anxious.

Two hours later, I French braid my bangs back, and use bobby pins to make a bun. I leave a few curls down to frame my face and I’m happy with the end result. It’s a chic updo that doesn’t take much effort. After spraying my hair into place, I work on my makeup. I use a dark eyeshadow and do smokey eyes, then add a little gold glitter, and finish up with eyeliner and mascara. I add a little blush and lastly I paint my lips a deep crimson.

Carefully I slip Jax’s jersey off of my head and toss it onto the bed besides the dress. I admire the gown for a few seconds before putting it on. The corset top fits like a glove and makes my boobs pop up with the perfect amount of cleavage and then some more, but luckily the embroidery still makes me look classy. I slip on my nude peep toe Louboutin heels and the gold clutch that I laid out earlier that matches my dress perfectly. I have five minutes before I have to be downstairs for the car. Quickly, I put on the earrings that Logan bought me from Paris last year, grab my mask, and head towards the elevators.

As soon as the elevator arrives at the lobby, my heart skips a beat . . . I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as breathtaking as the sight before me. Holy moses, I’m afraid to blink because I don’t want The God before me to evaporate if I do. I’ve seen Jax in a tux several times, more than I can count actually, and each time he looks like The God, but this time it’s just too much. It almost hurts to look at how beautiful he is. Almost is the keyword.

His back is to me as he talks on the phone. I’ve only seen his side profile and I know when he turns around I won’t be able to keep my eyes off him. When I see two passing guys stare at me, I blush and slowly step to Jax.

Noticing the two unblinking men in front of him, Jax slowly turns around and pauses mid-sentence. I stop and beam in awe. I can’t believe someone can possibly look this good. It’s truly unfair Jax doesn’t even notice the effect he causes me when he’s in a tux; heck even breathing, this man affects me. Blinking, as if coming out of a daze, he walks my way while I continue to gawk at him, wishing that he was mine again.