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I shake my head. “That I’ll hurt myself.”
He stands, brushing my hair out of my face. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that. But I would if I could.”
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his vanilla and woodsy scent. We stay like that for a minute or two before I look up at him. “I’ll come back with you.”
He grins.
“You’re sure they won’t mind that I’m not going to show what I try on?” My fingers fist his shirt.
“Positive. All of this isn’t for us, princess. It’s for you.” After I give him a disbelieving look, he laughs. “Okay, it’s mostly for you. But I can’t lie. I’m excited to see what you pick out.” He leans closer and murmurs in my ear, “And even more excited to tear it all off of you so we can use you like the pretty fucktoy you are.”
His words send a shiver through me. Then I push him toward the curtains. “I’ll be back soon. And thank you, Oliver.”
He kisses me on the forehead, squeezes my hand, and then disappears.
I turn to the lacy pile of lingerie sitting in the corner of the dressing room and smile.
Told you. They’re nothing like Adam.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RHETT
SEEING WREN’S eyes red from crying sends a wave of fury through me that I’m barely able to get under control. I stand behind her while she checks out with Oliver, trying to calm my facial expressions. When the checkout lady gives me a frightened look, I figure I’m doing a shitty job.
Typical.
Turning away, I take a few deep breaths. Trace my fingers over the seams of my jeans and focus on the feeling of the rough fabric. Crack my knuckles.
Whoever dared to make her feel insecure about herself is going to pay—dearly. And I’m already pretty sure I know who it was.
I feel a soft hand wrap around mine. It sends a wave of calm through me that still feels foreign in my body. I kiss the top of Wren’s head before giving her what I hope is a convincing smile.
“Ready?”
“Definitely.”
I think lingerie is pretty, and Wren seems happy with what she picked out—after her breakdown in the dressing room, of course. But being in a lingerie store for an hour? Really not my thing.
Oliver adds the bags to the trunk, and we climb into the SUV again. This time, before Wren can reach for her seatbelt, I pull her into the middle seat and strap her in. I keep my arm around her, and she settles into my side with a sigh. She runs her hand up and down my thigh with soft strokes.
Two days. Technically, one and a half now. It’s not enough fucking time to get her out of my system. Hell, I’m beginning to think I never will.
When Elliot pulls into the parking lot of Wren’s apartment building, her hand freezes on my leg. Her gaze is locked onto a green sedan close to the entrance.
Wren’s deep, relaxed breaths quickly turn to shallow, panicked ones. Her nails dig into my pants, although I don’t think she realizes it.
Shit. Fuck. I can barely handle my emotions, let alone someone else’s. When I heard her crying in the dressing room earlier, it felt like I couldn’t move. And now I’m the one in the backseat with her while she’s about to break down again.
“Who?” I grunt out.
Wrong thing to fucking say, you idiot.
“Adam,” she whispers. “My ex.”
I hear Elliot undoing his seatbelt. “We’re coming up with you.”
She’s about to protest, but she clamps her mouth shut at the look Elliot gives her in the rearview mirror. It’s for the best. When Elliot’s protective side comes out, it’s smart to stay out of his fucking way.
