“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 itwhat 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 wouldloveto 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.
