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“And I really, really,reallylove fucking you.” His body bucked and he came with a curse. He pressed his face against my neck and dragged in deep breaths. “Shit. Sorry. That snuck up on me.”
I giggled. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really expecting an orgasm today.”
He pulled out and let my leg slide down then considered me with a calculating gaze. “You should expect an orgasm every day, Brick.”
I gasped as his fingers slipped between my legs to stroke my clit. His other hand pulled my shirt up. His lips found my left breast through my bra. He sucked the nipple to a hard peak then moved to the right one.
I shuddered, overwhelmed by waves of sensation zinging between my tits and my clit.
Drew went to his knees. He pushed my legs a little further apart, tongued and sucked my clit as his fingers slid inside me and started pumping.
“Oh my god. Christ!Drew!” I came as fast and hard as he had, trembling and holding his hair, overcome with sensation and arching against the wall and his mouth.
As the wave subsided and I relaxed, he stood, wiped his face on his shirt, and kissed me. He touched my jaw with fingers so gentle. “Zel, I love you exactly as you are. Except your wardrobe. It sucks and you should look like the hot, sexy Valkyrie that you are.” He brushed my hair back from my face. “I know you don’t really like to be noticed, but you are so beautiful, and I want every motherfucker out there to see us and see how goddamn lucky I am to be with you. I want them to cry into their beers ’cause they’re not as blessed as Aithan and me.”
I bit my lip and shook my head, about to argue with him, until he added, “Maybe if you dress like a beautiful woman, you’ll start seeing her when you look in the mirror.”
That made me pause. “Maybe.” I looked down, but he lifted my chin with a finger.
“Will you try? I know when you’re wearing one of your favorite outfits, ’cause I can see how good you feel about yourself.”
“Okay. Since you asked so nicely. And you gave me a really lovely orgasm. I’ll meet with the stylist.”
He smiled and kissed me tenderly. “You’re gonna leave them panting.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” Drew cradled my face. “And, Zel? Stop comparing yourself to Livi and Greer. Stop thinking that Aithan and I are gonna get sick of you and your body. That dude loves you as much as I do, and he’s just as hard up.”
I had a difficult time believing that. Part of me did, but a small, vicious voice in my head called it a lie. “Have you guys looked in the mirror? You’re both hot as fuck. I’m just meh.”
“Brick. You are the exact opposite of meh. You are fuckingperfect. And trust me when I say Aithan’s hot for you.” His lips curved into a smirk. “Maybe you think we don’t talk, but we do.” He sobered and added, “Aithan just wants to take care of you. He wants you to be happy. You getting sick last week? I know that shit scared him.”
“Enough to leave.” Of course my brain jumped to that conclusion first.
“Nah, babe. We’re in this for the long haul.” He bent for my undies and helped me step into them. “And you promised to take care of me when I’m old and wrinkled and senile.”
“Who’s taking care of whom?” I asked as he tugged my underwear up and smoothed my skirt down.
“You. Me. Aithan. Each other.” He kissed me and murmured, “Easy-peasy.”
* * *
Two days later I stood in front of the door of It Fitz, taking deep breaths and telling myself that this was a good idea. “You can’t keep dressing like a schlubby grandmother.” With that dubious pep talk in mind, I turned the doorknob.
“Zelda?” Lorelei Fitzsimmons asked as she invited me into her office. The space was chic — painted pale gray and white with a comfortable white couch and a glass coffee table. A desk occupied one corner. Shelves held fashion books and magazines. Black-and-white photographs hung on the walls.
I shook her hand. “Yes. You’re Lorelei?” She was small and curvy with a girlish voice and pixie-cut hair dyed bright blue.
“That’s me. Welcome to It Fitz.” She led me to the couch then brought a cup of orange spice tea and a glass of water. She sat opposite me. “First thing we’re going to do is talk about your style and your needs. I know you’re worried about finding clothes that fit you off-the-rack because you’re not a typical size twenty. But I have resources that specialize in hard-to-fit clients and you’re not the tallest or heaviest woman I’ve dressed.”
“Oh, good.” Her frankness made me feel much better. “It’s a challenge to find clothes I like that fit well, so I don’t really try very hard. And working from home means I can get away with loose, soft sweaters and sweatpants or leggings.”
“Why don’t you dress up for work? I understand having the luxury of working from home, but there’s no reason not to feel professional while you’re doing it. And you go out with friends or your boyfriend, right? Do you have client meetings?”
“I’m an audiobook narrator and spend half my day inside a sound booth. I need to wear clothing that’s soft and makes no noise because my mics are sensitive.” I bit my lip and added, “I do go out with my boyfriends, and they’ve made it pretty clear that my wardrobe sucks. Meeting with you was my boyfriend Drew’s idea, and my other boyfriend got on board with it.” She nodded, and I continued, impressed that my mention of two boyfriends got no reaction. “Honestly, it took me longer to come around to the idea. But I have to admit they’re right and my clothes are horrible for going out in public. I have — I don’t know —maybefour outfits that make me feel good. They’re the ones I wear all the time. The rest of my wardrobe is junk, ill-fitting, or clothes for running or narrating.”
Lorelei jotted down notes as I talked. She looked up. “I heard from Drew.” I nodded and she continued. “He sent me pictures of a few items from your wardrobe, apparently the things that he thinks fit you well and look good.” She held my gaze, and I was pretty sure she was figuring out how I ticked. “How do you feel about his opinions? And how do you feel about himhavingopinions?”
