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Eleven
Jenna wanderedthe racks of the lingerie store, her fingers grazing the silky fabrics as her mind turned to Farrell. He’d taken her with his customary savagery the night before, but there had been something else, too. Something in the lingering quality of his kisses, the slow stroke of him inside her, that spoke to everything that had been moving between them since they’d come toRome.
She’d been ravenous for him, digging her nails into his back as he’d driven into her, locking her legs around his waist, pulling him deeply intoher.
She didn’t know if it was her pregnancy or the fact that they’d been walking the knife’s edge of an argument for four days, but she’d been even hotter for him than usual. Every touch of his hands had been like a match to the kindling of her body, every kiss more brush on thefire.
By the time he’d left for Athens, she’d been sore in the best way possible, the ache between her legs a memory she wanted to hold onto as he’d kissed hergoodbye.
“That’s pretty,” Charlotte said, eyeing the soft pink teddy in Jenna’shands.
Charlotte had the voice of an old-school screen siren. It was a voice that spoke of whiskey, neat. Of cigarettes and black eyeliner. Of dressing gowns and satinsheets.
“It is,” Jenna said. She put it back on the rack. “But not what I’m looking for thistime.”
“What are you looking for?” Charlotteasked.
“I’m not sure,” Jenna said. “But I’ll know it when I seeit.”
Charlotte’s laugh was throaty and low. “Iunderstand.”
“What about you?” Jenna asked. “Have you foundanything?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Charlotte said, slowly pushing the hangers aside as she studied thegarments.
Angel and Isabel were exuberant shoppers, but Charlotte had proven herself discerning as they’d traversed a series of upscale but hiddenboutiques.
She approached every piece of clothing deliberately, feeling the fabric between her fingers, checking the seams for craftsmanship, testing the zippers andbuttons.
Jenna, her habit of study and mimicry long ingrained from all her ears of reinvention, had watched with fascination, trying to determine which handbag would make the cut, which silk blouse would meet herapproval.
She didn’t know what she’d expected: that Charlotte might be a spendthrift because she didn’t have children? Because she had no one to indulge butherself?
It had been an uninformed view of a woman who was proving far more complex. So far, Charlotte was the only one of them who hadn’t bought athing.
Jenna wandered to the end of the row, her eyes skimming soft teal bra and panty sets, babydoll nighties in pale blue, a camisole and tap pant in creamyivory.
The store was elegant and spare, with white walls and overstuffed sofas in rich lavender velvet, draperies of lilac silk, throw pillows in shades of violet andheather.
Unlike the mainstream lingerie stores Jenna was accustomed to, this one featured a sparse inventory of well-curated items. It was something of a relief, and Jenna’s eyes stopped on a lithe mannequin outfitted in a series of black straps that resembled bondage gear more thanlingerie.
She looked around for everyone else, but Charlotte was still immersed in the rack behind her. Angel and Isabel were nowhere to be found. Jenna could only assume they were in the fittingrooms.
She crossed the store and stopped in front of the mannequin, tipping her head as she examined the item of clothing that seemed to be a cross between a bodysuit and arestraint.
The entire piece was made up of black straps, the only fabric a tiny triangle of black silk between the mannequin’slegs.
The straps started halter-style behind the neck, then descended around the breasts, like a bikini top with nofabric.
A new set of straps radiated down and around the mannequin’s waist to the back, where it returned to the front, culminating in the fabric that covered the pubicmound.
From there the straps continued over the small of the back, down each hip and across the underside of the buttocks. A thin strap acted as a G-string between the cheeks of the mannequin and joined with thefront.
The total effect was one of erotic bondage, the straps traveling across and around the body’s most sensual areas, highlighting them by leaving them totally bare to theeye.
She could see herself in it. Could imagine the look in Farrell’s eyes when she stepped into the room wearing it. She could feel the snap of the straps against her skin, a tease Farrell would surely take advantage of that would only heighten herarousal.
He wouldn’t bother unhooking or removing any ofit.
