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Did Hayden send these mysterious gifts? Since I can’t be sure, can he actually get mad if curiosity gets the best of me? As my brain twists the question around like a pretzel, I dutifully slide the bottle of bubbly into the fridge and set the box, wrapped with a silken red bow, on the kitchen counter.
I’ve barely finished before the doorbell rings yet again. What the hell is going on? Are all these gifts Hayden’s way of letting me down easy?
If so, I admit it; I’ll be crushed.
When I pull open the door again, the courier is standing there once more. He’s a teenage kid with an acne problem and bulging eyes. When he spies me in shorts and a tank top, he can’t seem to operate his tongue. Poor guy. I remember that awkward age…
“Are you supposed to give me the box in your hands?”
“Huh?” He swallows, then nods. “Um, are you Perrie?”
“That’s me.”
“I thought you’d be an old dude.”
I smile. “I get that sometimes. The box?”
“Right. I almost forgot.” He shoves it in my direction. “Have a good one.”
With a last long look, he jogs back to his idling hatchback still blaring an R & B tune. I shut the door, shaking my head.
Maybe I should look on the bright side. Though my life is still upside down, it could be worse. I could be sixteen again…and have six years of unrequited love for Hayden yet to endure.
The truth is, I have a good life. I’ve got some great people in my corner. I’m fielding multiple job offers in major cities all over the country, so I have choices if things don’t work out as planned. I’m young, healthy, and resilient.
I’d just rather not add brokenhearted to that list.
Sinking onto the living room sofa, I pluck at the frilly, pristinely wrapped package in my grip. The sticker affixed tells me it’s from a local store with a very sexy reputation. The little card tucked under the pale pink ribbon contains three more words.
Wear me now
My heart stutters. Did Hayden send me lingerie? Is that possible?
I yank the box open and tear through the dainty tissue paper. The white gossamer fabric and lace make me gasp. It’s stunningly soft.
When I hold up the piece by its spaghetti straps, the box falls at my feet, forgotten. The baby doll is completely sheer. The two cups designed to “cover” my breasts are trimmed in a playful yet delicate dotted lace. Under that, a tiny white bow, placed where the fabric gently gathers, pretends to hold the fluttering sides together. But that bow is purely for show because the sucker is split open with a scalloped hem that runs down the length of the torso and trims the bottom edge, which will barely skim the tops of my thighs.
I bend and scramble through the box for another card or anything that tells me who my mystery gift giver is. All I find is a tiny scrap of matching panties. The strips of lace over the hips echo the design meant to hug my breasts. The rest, including the material over my pussy, is so see-through I’m wondering why it’s there at all.
The tease factor on this getup is times a million. It’s lingerie meant for seduction. I’ve never owned anything like it.
There’s no question whether I’m going to put it on. I can’t wait to.
As I slip into the bedroom and tug off my shorts and tank, I hope and pray I’m donning this for Hayden.
If I’m being honest, I came back to Phoenix for him. Everything is always for him.
The garments feel like a silky cloud of nothing as I slide them on. When I stand in front of the full-length mirror, I’m stunned to see the lace hugs me perfectly, clinging and revealing even more than it conceals.
I feel like a goddess, a temptress. Like the woman who could put a big, satisfied smile on Hayden Hughes’s face.
From the living room, I hear music begin to play—something I can’t identify from this distance. But it’s slow and sexy and lures me downstairs because, other than my dad, only one person has a key to the front door.
Trembling, I make my way across the house. When I round the corner, the man I never fell out of love with stands in the archway, waiting. When Hayden sees me, he sucks in a breath. His jaw drops. He doesn’t speak, just blinks and swallows hard. I risk a glance down. He’s unmistakably excited by what he sees.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Oh, Princess…” His gaze wends its way back up to mine. “Wow…”
Electricity sizzles across my skin. The air seems alive with it. The charged current bounces between us. He hasn’t put a finger on me yet, but I’m already so drugged with arousal I struggle to breathe.
