Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” the woman says, her accent decidedly plummy. “I did hear about that on the radio.” I give her points for not scrunching her nose at Doreen’s Edgeware address.
Meanwhile, Mimi is putting a lot of energy in her evil-eyed narrow glare. You’re going to pay for this, the look seems to suggest.
“I do love promises,” I murmur with a tiny smirk. She probably considers kicking me before, painting on a bland smile, she turns to the sales associate.
“I can’t get in to the house to get my clothes. I have work tomorrow and, well, I’m stuck.” She gives a tiny yet adorable shrug. The kind that makes me want to pick her up and spin her around.
“How frightful,” the woman drawls as though Mimi had just said a pack of hyenas recently devoured her entire family. At Camden market. “We absolutely can help.”
“Fond of a superlative, this one,” I mutter, earning me an elbow in the gut from Mimi.
“Maybe just a skirt and a shirt,” Mimi suggests, glancing warily over her shoulder at me.
“Great! Sounds like a naked Sunday.” I rub my hands together with relish.
“And maybe something a little more casual for tomorrow,” Mimi amends through gritted teeth.
“Underwear?” Charlotte suggests, but Mimi shakes her head.
“Commando also works for me.”
“I’ll wash what I have,” she snipes before turning back to the sales associate all smiles. “But maybe something to sleep in.”
“Something silky,” I suggest.
“I was thinking more flannel pj’s. Maybe a onesie?”
“And a chastity belt.”
Mimi swings around, her gray eyes stormy. “Would you like to wait outside? It’s not like you need to be here.”
“I could.” I shove my hands in the pockets of the jeans and affect a shrug. “I’m just not going to.” With that, I spy something blue and slinky on a minimalist rack to Mimi’s left. “This,” I say, reaching for it. “You should definitely try this.”
“No,” she says.
At the same time, the sales associate says, “Oh yes. That color would look beautiful on you.”
“Agreed.”
“What do you know?” Mimi’s hand slides to her cocked hip.
“You already know I have excellent taste.” My gaze flickers over her heatedly.
“And a big head.”
“Massive,” I enunciate with exaggeration. “It’s one of the things she loves about me.” The sales associate actually blushes as I send a wink her way. “My huge, massive—”
“I don’t even like you.” With that mutter, she snatches the dress out of my hand, pivoting to the rack behind her.
“You like at least one bit of me.” She inhales a tiny gasp as my hand deliberately brushes her waist, taking the hanger from her hand. “If you could hang that in the dressing room.”
“Of course, sir.” Charlotte takes it from my hand and hurries off.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Mimi whispers as she skims through the items on the rack in front of her.
“I think this is called payback.” If I was an artist and I painted her current expression, I’d title it what the hell are you on about. “You’ve been goading me since you appeared in my office.”
“I’m talking about the clothes!” Her hands slap her thighs as though exasperated.
“Oh. Don’t make it a thing,” I mutter.
“I don’t need you to do this.”
“What if I want to?” I answer honestly. “Because it’s not about you.” My lips curve into a smile as I take a step toward her, pressing my entire body against hers. My hands lift to her hips, my mouth pressed to her hair. “This is purely about me and what I want.”
“What is it you want?” I hear the tiny waver in her voice. See it in her hand.
“You say I’ve been buying you lingerie for years. I want a taste of that.”
As she opens her mouth to respond, I press my teeth to her neck in reprimand, or maybe encouragement as she makes the kind of breathy moan that makes my dick rock hard.
“Let me do this. Let me watch you dress.”
“Whit’s own Barbie Doll?” She ducks her head, but I see the smile she’s trying to suppress.
“If you were my Barbie Doll, you’d always be naked.”
“And my hair a mess?” I make a low sound of agreement. “Sounds like you’ve seen inside my toy box.”
“I would love to see inside your toy box sometime.”
Her laughter vibrates against me. “Honestly, it’s not even as exciting as Doreen’s.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t own a vibrator?” She doesn’t answer, though the sweep of her dark-blond lashes lower. “Not even a little bullet you press to your clit when you think of me?”
“I dread to think what nefariousness dwells in your toy box,” she whispers instead.
“Why is that?”
“Your mind is inventive enough already.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a mango again without blushing. Drink champagne, or even watch the condensation on a cold glass.”