Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“I can’t pay you back for the car,” she says.
I still, then turn to face her. “I know. I thought we covered this.”
“So this is about your sister? It can’t just be about the trip to New York.”
I shrug. “Like I said, it doesn’t hurt. Chuck’s a dick, and I enjoy him thinking I took you from him.”
“When did she date him?”
“A year ago. She lived with me for the summer and came to a couple fights. She met Chuck and decided to date him despite my every objection.”
Savvy worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess it was a lesson she needed to learn the hard way. Have you tried the stuff on for Thursday?” I ask, mostly to remind myself of my goals. God. I wish I could be there to see the look in the old man’s eyes when he finds out she’s a Downing.
She shakes her head. “I was afraid I might accidentally ruin something, so I put it off. Then I forgot.”
I wave toward the bedroom. “Do you mind putting it all on before you head to work?”
She holds my gaze for a long time, the hazel of her eyes pulling me under, hypnotizing me.
I can’t fall for this girl, but sometimes I’m not sure if I’m protecting her or myself.
SAVVY
Oliver’s mood has changed from relaxed and fun to hard and cold in the span of the last thirty seconds. “You’re acting weird. Are you pissy with me, or . . .” I cock my head to the side. “Who is this guy to you?”
Oliver huffs. “Like I said. He’s a rich asshole who has something of mine.”
I nod slowly. There’s more he’s not telling me, but what’s new? Oliver isn’t exactly an open book. “Fine.”
I scoot around him and head to the bedroom to try on what I know has to be thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise. Taking a deep breath, I open the Bergdorf bag first. Inside is a small black cocktail dress and . . . a matching black panty set. “Seriously?” I yell, loud enough to be heard through the door and down the hall. “Why do I need new underwear for this? Because I fucking swear, if you think I’m going to let him see me in it—”
“Calm down. The girl who did the shopping for me said the dress needed a special bra. She asked what you had, and I didn’t know, so she included one that would work.”
I hold up the scrap of lace wrapped neatly in the same bag. “And the thong? How do you explain that?”
This time when he speaks, his voice is lower and closer, like he’s moved to the door. “Panty lines, sweetheart.”
“You really didn’t think I owned a single pair of panties that would work with this dress?”
“I didn’t think you’d want me searching through them to see for myself.”
“You didn’t hesitate to go through them to figure out my size.” The only sound from the other side of the door is his laughter, and it’s a relief. Whoever this guy is, it’s obvious Oliver gets out of sorts just thinking about him. “Well, she could’ve gotten cheap underwear. It’s not like he’s gonna know if I have boring Target panties on beneath this overpriced dress.”
“There’s nothing boring about your panties, Savvy.”
I snap my attention to the door, as if I might be able to see his face through the solid wood panels. Welcome back, Mr. Mixed Signals.
“How’s it look?” he asks.
With a sigh, I strip out of my clothes. “Give me a minute.” The undergarments are silky smooth and fit like a glove. Even the lace panel on the panties is soft. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and bite my bottom lip. The panty set is classic and sexy. I can’t help but wonder if Oliver had other reasons for buying it for me. Like maybe he liked the idea of me in it. Like maybe he wanted to be the only man who would know the most intimate part of this outfit he bought me.
If I were someone different, I might open that door and ask if he approved. If I were bolder, I’d do it just to see the heat in his eyes. Would he finally touch me then? Would he investigate the texture of the lace between my thighs or study the swell of my breasts in the plunging push-up bra?
I close my eyes as the fantasy washes over me. I imagine how the scruff of his stubble would feel against my neck. Would he be quiet as he explored my body with his hands, or would he whisper dirty thoughts in my ear?
“Need help?” he asks, tearing me from the fantasy.
I shake my head to send the images from my mind, but my cheeks are still hot. “I’m trying not to damage anything,” I say. Yes, let’s pretend that’s the problem. I flip over the tag on the dress, and my heart stutters. “Holy fuck. Do people really spend this much on a single item of clothing?”