Page 23 of Accidental Husband
She raises a brow. "Which side is that?"
"You think I care about a woman's underwear?" Sure, I appreciate leather and lace. But I appreciate a cotton bikini just as much. Innocence is fucking hot.
"Apparently."
"You want to get laid or not?"
"I don't need your help getting laid."
"All right, we'll go to Victoria's Secret when we get in."
"I'm not going to Victoria's Secret with you."
"Then pack a thong."
Her nose scrunches in distaste. "I don't need floss in my crack."
"Damn, Jules, you're gonna make me hard."
"Gross." She moves to her dresser. Pulls open her top drawer. The one packed with panties in every color of the rainbow.
Most are classic cotton things. Comfortable and sexy in their own way.
But there's something. White scraps of lace. And a sheer white robe.
Fuck, between her curls and the chiffon fabric, she'd be pure angel. Innocent. Corruptible. Irresistible.
"That's perfect." I motion to the lingerie.
She swallows hard. "No, um, that was a gift. For my shower. And, um… I just…" She wraps her arms around her stomach. "I don't want to look at it. Okay?"
"Victoria's Secret it is then." I'm not about to ask her to wear lingerie meant for her ex-fiancé. Not that the asshole would have appreciated the effort.
Probably wanted her to dress up sexy for him and blow him while he stared off into space.
I don't blame him for wanting Jules's soft lips around his cock—
Or wanting that sheer white lace draping over her tits—
Fuck, I'm getting distracted. I don't need to dive into this level of detail. Sexy dress. Heels. Lipstick.
That's all it takes to appeal to men.
Hell, only takes one of the three. Especially on someone as gorgeous as Jules.
Shit. I swallow another sip of my iced latte, but it does nothing to cool my blood. This is fucking weird. I don't think about her this way.
Yeah, I have eyes. I can see she's attractive. But I don't want her.
I don't want to see her in that white lace.
Don't want to feel her thighs against my cheeks.
Don't want to hear my name roll off her lips.
"I require one matcha latte for every purchase we make at Victoria's Secret." She paws through her suitcase, pressing the wrinkled t-shirts to one side, leaving the rolled denim on the other.
"You want me to buy your lingerie and your lattes?"
