Page 280 of Rock Me All Night
"She's going to ask us to leave." I lean into his body anyway.
He wraps his arms around me. "Then I'll buy everything you've got in the dressing room and you can try 'em on at home."
"Would you really?"
"Last I heard, I don't get a say in what you wear."
"I didn't mean to be so—"
"I know." He kisses my forehead and steps back to an appropriate distance for the middle of a store. "I love how strong you are, Kara. I love that you tell me to back off when I'm being an ass."
The wordsI love you, Karawere in that sentence in that order. There were other words between them, but my body is ignoring those other words in favor of going into overdrive.
It's warm in here. Really warm. I lift my hair to fan the back of my neck. Better. I'm breathing okay.
"I'll try that other bikini, but there's no way I'm wearing it in public. Understand?" I put my hand on my hip in my most confident posture.
"Kendrick, you can say or do whatever you want if you're modeling swimwear for me."
In the dressing room, I change into the skimpiest of all the polka dot options. The triangle top tugs at my neck. So not happening with my bust size. The bikini bottoms are low rise. They barely cover my thong.
My gaze goes straight to the raised red scars on my thighs. They aren't as bad as they are in my mind, but they're noticeable.
I step back until I'm pressed against the wall. I try to look at myself like I'm taking in the whole picture, but I can't see anything but the scars.
Maybe it's better in the mirror outside.
With a deep breath, I step out of the dressing room. I block out everything but my reflection. First above the waist. The cut is a lot more flattering. My boobs look enormous in the tiny top. My eyes travel down. This bottom fits better. It's not digging into my hips.
And then the thighs.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights, the scars stand out like black tattoos on white skin.
That crick in my neck spreads to my upper back.
Drew comes closer. He looks in the mirror like he's studying my reflection it in. "You okay?"
I shake my head.
"You look hot as fuck, you know."
"Maybe waist up."
"Every inch of you looks hot as fuck." He leans closer. "I'd drag you to the dressing room and rip that bikini off if I didn't know it would get us arrested." He groans. "Even so. Might do it if you stay out here too long."
My cheeks flush. He really does make me feelhot as fuck.
I nod a thank you and return to the dressing room. One of the polka-dot bottoms is a swim skirt with ruffles. It's a lot shorter than the other skirt. It will probably draw attention to my scars as much as it hides them.
I change into it and a bra-style top. The latter fits like a charm. But the skirted bottoms—
They're feminine and adorable and absolutely ineffective at covering the parts I want hidden.
Outside, Drew clears his throat like he's waiting. Okay, fine, I did promise to model for him. I step into the main area and twirl like I really don't give a fuck that my thighs are visible to everyone who walks by the store.
Drew looks me up and down. His eyes go wide. "Your tits look amazing."
"You're a poet."
