Page 57 of Tangled Desires

I nudge Amelia gently. “Feel like checking it out?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “I-I’ve never bought anything like that before.”

I hum thoughtfully, tugging her hand with less urgency. “Let’s change that. Come on, Sunshine. Just a look.”

I shove a bright orange and yellow lace set at her, the floral design practically screaming her name. “This issoyou,” I declare, pointing her toward the fitting room.

Amelia stares at it like it’s going to bite her. “Imogen, I can’t—”

“Try it on,” I interrupt, shoving her closer. “Brad calls you Sunshine for a reason, yeah?”

Her blush deepens as she nods, and I smirk. “Exactly. Now get in there.”

A few minutes later, she emerges, cheeks blazing and fidgeting with the straps, but holy hell, she looks incredible. The colours light her up, and the lace? Yeah, Brad’s going to combust. I grab her phone without asking.

“What are you doing?” she asks, wide-eyed.

“Relax,” I say, holding up a hand as I snap a picture and hit send.

Her jaw drops. “Imogen! What the hell did you just do?”

“Relax,” I repeat, grinning like a cat with cream. “You’ll thank me.”

Before she can snatch her phone back, it vibrates. She checks the screen, her face turning crimson as she reads the message. “Oh my God.”

I cackle. Of course, Brad didn’t disappoint. “Told you.”

“Alright, my turn,” I announce, plucking a dark blue lace set from the rack. Nowthisis my colour.

In the fitting room, the bra straps slide into place, and I catch my reflection. Damn. Fuller thighs, rounder hips, and—hello, new tits. I grab a handful gently because these suckers are stilltender as fuck. The sales assistant wasn’t kidding; I’m rocking an E cup now. E foreverything.

Amelia pokes her head through the curtain. “Do you like—” Her eyes nearly bug out. “Oh my God, Imogen, you look…”

“Different?” I quip, adjusting the lace with a grin.

“Absolutely stunning,” she says, smirking. “Blue was made for you.”

I twirl a little, testing the fit. “Not bad, huh?”

She narrows her eyes, that smirk turning devious. “You should text Harrison.”

“What?” I snort, rolling my eyes. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Just do it. Trust me.” She folds her arms, throwing my earlier words right back at me.

“Cheeky,” I mutter, laughing despite myself. Finally, I grab my phone, angling a shot that teases just enough—a hint of cleavage, a soft bite of lip, the mirror showing off the Brazilian lace at the back. Satisfied, I pull up Harrison’s thread.

Me:Hi.

Harrison:Hello? Is everything okay?

I snort, because yeah, a random “hi” isnotmy style.

Me:Yep.

Then, without overthinking, I hit send on the photo, toss my phone into my bag, and tug my clothes back on. A rush courses through me—hell, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me in lingerie before, but still. Chill, Imogen. The notifications start blowing up before I even make it to the counter. Amelia doubles over laughing as I finally check my phone.

Harrison:HOLY FUCK

---