AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I drive to Orange County for dinner; I make small talk about my sister's softball schedule; I drive home, and I pour my thoughts out again.
The same, on Monday.
Up until my phone buzzes with Patrick's text, and I finally shift out of my head and into my body.
* * *
Patrick:I'm free for the next two hours. Send me a pic when you're ready for my call.
I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about anything, period, but I'm ready to not talk.
I'm so, so ready to not talk.
Now, how to torture him the most?
I try a selfie, but I don't look cute in my study outfit—a baggy tee, a bralette, athletic shorts.
I ditch the tee.
Then the shorts.
There. Better. I try another picture. There's an intimacy to it, but there's not enough sizzle.
I grab my lipstick from my desk, apply a coat of Wine Not, and try again from my nose to my waist, the sheer pink bralette showing just enough to tease him.
There.
I hit send.
Again, my skin flushes. My sex clenches. My thoughts scatter.
It feels so good, being here, in my body, far, far away from ugly, complicated things.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Patrick: Are you trying to kill me?
Imogen: Yes.
Patrick: Keep trying.
A dare. I love a dare.
My underwear isn't cute, but I have a sexy-enough pair of pale pink panties somewhere.
I find them in my drawer, change into them, cop a sexy pose—my thumb pulling the fabric down, over my hip.
There.
I send, flush, pant.
A perfect, beautiful pattern.
This time, he replies with a call.
I answer right away. "What are you wearing?"
"That's my line." There's an edge to his voice, like he's already panting with desire.
