Cynthia isn't as sold. "It's lovely. For the weekend. For dinner—" Her eyes light up with an epiphany. "I know just the thing."
She rushes me into the dressing room. Buzzes to the rack. Grabs another dress.
At a glance, it's the same. A long black number made of chiffon.
But I'm not arguing over a free dress.
I undo the zipper. Push the straps off my shoulders. Watch the black fabric fall off my chest.
It collects at my waist. A stark contrast against my light skin.
So clearly half-off. So clearly rushed.
I'm so clearly exposed.
My sex clenches.
My thighs shake.
My fingers dig into the chiffon.
Already, I want him here. Behind me.
His lips on my neck, his hands on my skin, his voice in my ears.
I want to feel him hard against me.
Inside me.
The thought overwhelms me. What is it like?
I've read books that mention fullness. Satisfaction. Pain. Pressure. Pleasure.
I don't like asking friends. They laugh at my inexperience even when they mean well. And Addie—who I trust not to laugh—has no idea.
Though—
Nope. Not thinking about whether or not my sister uses dildos with her girlfriend. Or by herself.
That's mood killing.
Until my gaze returns to the mirror. The thought of him overwhelms the awkwardness.
I want to be exposed for him.
On display for him.
My breath catches in my throat.
My hands move for me. My phone. The camera.
A picture of the mirror. From my lips to my hips. My bare shoulders and chest, the tips of my teal hair, the dress at my waist.
The sparrow on my left shoulder.
It's clearly me.
And I—
I'm going crazy. I put my cell away. Slide out of the dress. Into the other.
As soon as my gaze hits my reflection, my body goes into overdrive.
I want to take a million pictures. Send them to Ian. Ask for his in return.
It's too dangerous. Too risky. Those pictures could end up anywhere.
But maybe if he starts…
No. I really am going crazy.
I need to pick out this dress, get lunch, find more caffeine.
Okay, I need to pick out the dress, get lunch, go home, and touch myself to thoughts of him.
But still, I need to pick out the dress.
Ahem.
This one is sexier than the last. Another deep plunge. The same open back. A slit in the skirt. Cut all the way to my hip.
High enough to show the edge of my cotton panties.
High enough I should skip the panties.
I take a deep breath. Will it to lower my temperature. Step into the main room.
My eyes go straight to the three-panel mirror. My thoughts go straight to the gutter. Him, behind me, ordering me to strip for his viewing pleasure.
Ordering me to touch myself.
To touch him.
To watch as I come.
To watch as he comes.
"Perfect." Cynthia marvels at her handiwork. Fails to notice the blush spreading to my chest. Or decides not to call me on it. "Don't you think?"
"Yes. It is. And I, uh… is that all?" I ask. "Because I…"
"You're blushing," Addie says.
"I am not." The lie does not help matters.
"She likes that one," Addie says. "You should get it. And while you're here… a few more things. People will notice if you wear that dress twice in a week."
"It is going to make an impression." Lock nods.
"Okay. A few more things." I move into the dressing room. Turn my back to the mirror as I strip. It helps keep my dirty thoughts at bay.
But not enough.
It stays in my head, even after an iced tea, and far too many wardrobe changes.
Finally, I place my last garment on the hanger. A dozen new items. Worth…
God knows what.
I change into my street clothes, finish my last sip of iced tea, step into the main room.
And there he is. Like something out of a dream.
The door swings shut behind Ian.
He stands there in his sleek black suit, his eyes fixed on me, his expression bright with interest.
Addie's jaw drops. She looks to me and mouths holy shit.
"Hi." She stands. Wipes her palm on her skirt—she's also drinking something iced, though it looks like coffee. "You must be Ian."
"I must be." He crosses the room to her. Shakes her hand. "You must be Eve's sister."
She nods. "I am. Addie. And you… are very tall." Her cheeks flush. "Sorry. I've never met one of Eve's boyfriend's before."
He looks to me and raises a brow. Asking if he's okay to run with the term.
No. Maybe. I don't know. What can I say? I'm not explaining the whole arrangement to her. Boyfriend is close. Ish.
I shrug. It's not a lie. Just… not accurate.
"Do you mind if I borrow Eve?" he asks.
"Don't you have a meeting, Mr. Hunt?" Lock asks.
"It ended early." Ian holds out his hand, beckoning me. "If you're still shopping, I won't interrupt. Or if I can't negotiate your permission, Addie."
She giggles, but she still sends me one of those oh my God are we talking about this looks. "How late will you have her out?"
"Not late. I have another meeting. But I might need her tonight." Intention drops into his voice.
Mmm. Yes. Now. Please.
"Will you be coming to the party this weekend?" He turns his attention to her. All his attention. The way he looks at her… he's completely and totally present. "I'm sure Eve would appreciate it."
"Of course. I never miss the chance to swim. I hope it's not one of those pool parties where no one goes in the pool," she says.
"You'll have to tear me away from the water," he says.
Really? I know the UK is an island, but I don't hear much about swimming, surfing, water sports. And he was in the air force, not the navy. But who knows? Maybe Ian swims a mile a day.
Maybe he has plans to fuck me in the pool after everyone leaves.
"As long as you bring her home fed and caffeinated," Addie says. "And not too much to drink if you go out late. She gets hangovers."
"Addie!" My voice drops to a tone I've only heard on friends. That oh my God, Mom, you're embarrassing me.
She smiles. "What? You do. He should know. If he's going to tend to your needs."
Ian returns her smile with something a lot more wicked. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of sending you home wanting."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eve
Addie texts the second I'm out of the store.
Not the oh my God, what the heck are you doing I expect from her.
Not even be careful or rich guys make good husbands, make sure he puts a ring on it.
Despite her grandma like worry, she's not practical when it comes to interpersonal affairs. She's a dreamer.
She believes in love and hope and other fairy tales. Like our father shaking off his drug addiction and helping out.
Addie: Are you going to explain why you suddenly have a rich boyfriend who's twice your age?
"Would you rather talk to her?" Ian presses his palm into my lower back. That soft pressure. Just enough my crop top skims my skin. Makes me aware of the warm air.