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ChapterSixteen
My eyes openedto bright sunlight streaming through the window. I sat up in the bed, a bit disoriented, especially when I saw a hanger wrapped in a white garment bag hanging on the knob of the dresser, with another one of those green paper bags right next to it on the floor.
The day—and night—before came back in a rush. I remembered everything—the car show, Lindsay, all those people who’d watched us at the club…yet my body was already warm because the thing I remembered the clearest was Dominic’s hands on my waist. On the back of my neck. On my arms.
“Shut up,” I told the room, then bit my tongue. Was he in the bathroom? Was he in the living room? The door was closed but it wouldn’t matter. He was a werewolf—he could still hear me if I spoke too loudly.
With a sigh, I got out of bed. Another dress. Was Sandra out in the living room, too, waiting for me to wake up? The clock on my phone said it was nine a.m. I hadn’t overslept.
But I went to the garment bag anyway, and I undid the zipper, and my breath hitched all over again.
“Hello, beautiful,” I said to the hot pink satin that hung on thick straps, beaded with stones that shimmered pink, and gathered at the waist, before it flared out all the way down to the ankles. It was arguably the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen, and the thought that it was made for me, that it would fit me just like those other dresses Sandra had ordered for me, had my heart fluttering.
In the paper bag on the floor, there were a pair of shoes with transparent straps and a thin heel that reminded me just how much my feet were going to hurt. But they were so pretty, I didn’t even care. I touched the necklace and spun it around because the diamond had ended up on my back while I’d slept. It reflected the sunlight so beautifully, I was mesmerized by it. A real diamond. That’s what Sandra said—it was a real, actual diamond that I probably couldn’t afford myself even if I sold a kidney on the black market.
When I took the dress from the hanger to look at it better in the mirror, I saw that there was another hanger behind it—this one with two tiny items of clothing. A pair of panties and a strapless bra, covered in smooth satin and beautifully done lace, so revealing it made me blush. The dress forgotten, I took the lingerie and brought it to the bed. I touched the fabric, the tiny flowers of the lace, smiling at them like an idiot.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered to them and analyzed every line and every seam until I memorized them completely.
They were for me. I was going to wear these today, and I already couldn’t wait.
Giggling like an idiot, I made my way out to the living room to find Dominic, but the entire room was empty. No laptops, no gadgets, no agents—just a plate covered with a silver dome with a note leaning against it: Breakfast. I’ll be back soon. The handwriting was terrible, barely legible, but what mattered was the inside of that dome.
A big fat piece of chocolate cake.
My stomach growled. My heart did its thing again. “I probably shouldn’t eat you,” I told the cake. I’d eaten so much of it yesterday, it was a miracle that my stomach was still flat. Another day of eating this stuff and I was going to have to buy new pairs of pants for sure.
“But I’m going to anyway.”
I took the silver fork neatly placed over a white napkin, and I dug in.
God, it was heavenly. The chocolate melted over it was still a bit warm, like they’d just had it made, and it chased away all thoughts of bad guys and dresses and diamonds like a magical charm. I ate it right there, standing, because I couldn’t wait long enough to grab the plate and sit down on the couch five feet away from me. Way too far.
Once more, I ate it like I was being chased by wendigos, and if I didn’t finish the whole thing within two minutes, they were going to devour me.
My stomach was already complaining, rumbling and growling, but I didn’t even care. It was done—the entire thing was inside me now, and I got all the chocolate smeared on the plate with my fingers, too, and licked it to the very last bit.
“Much better,” I said to the empty room.
On the way back to the bathroom, I eyed the lingerie again. So pretty. What would it feel like when I had them on?
I decided to find out right away. Bringing them with me to the bathroom, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, used the toilet like a mad woman, then put the lingerie on. Both the panties and the bra fit me like a glove. Made for me—literally. Who knew undercover missions could spoil a pixie like this?
I walked out into the bedroom to better see myself in the large mirror and in natural light. The shade of light pink was exactly right for my skin tone. The lace looked drawn, and the slight shimmer of the satin made the pieces look magical.
“Damn, Sandra. You’ve outdone yourself,” I mumbled, admiring myself in the mirror. I looked good. I looked sexy. And I didn’t even mind that they were pink.
Instead, my mind was caught up on what Dominic would say if he actually saw me like this. The thought made me flush and raised goose bumps all over my skin and lit that spark between my legs again. Did I even own any piece of lingerie like this?
I didn’t. If I’d known that this was all it took to turn me on—to look and feel sexy and beautiful—I’d have bought every Victoria’s Secret collection ages ago. I watched my hands tracing the lace of the bra, then the panties. I was throbbing between my legs, the heat almost painful now.
It occurred to me that I was alone.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t had an orgasm in at least a month (don’t judge me, I’ve been busy).
And it occurred to me that I hadn’t felt this sexy in…probably ever.
Maybe that’s how I convinced myself to go ahead and lay on the bed. The bedroom door was closed. I would be silent—not a sound would leave my lips. And honestly, it was probably going to be done in less than a minute, with the way I was already dripping.
