Page 77 of Tangled Kisses
“Getting our bearings,” I cut in, my palm sliding back to her waist. “But I’m certain you can find something perfect for her.”
Reese’s head whips toward me, her jaw slack. “What are you doing?”
A smile curls my lips as I lean close, brushing a kiss just under her ear. “Having the time of my life.”
The clerk steps forward and captures Reese’s hands, tugging them gently away from her sides. “You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you? But you’ve got gorgeous curves. I’d guess a D cup?”
Reese makes a strangled sound, mortification blazing across her cheeks. “Oh, my God.”
I chuckle, equally amused and aroused. Hell, I want to tell this woman she’s underselling her—because I’ve seen those curves bare and perfect in my head a thousand times already. And the idea that I might see them up close and personal in about ten minutes? I can barely keep my mouth shut.
“Don’t be modest,” the saleswoman says, giving Reese’s arm a light squeeze. “No doubt he agrees with my take.”
“That I do.” My hand tightens on Reese’s hip, just enough for her to feel it.
The woman clasps her hands together as her gaze travels over the racks of lingerie. “Come with me. I have some exquisite pieces that will accentuate all your curves.”
Reese cuts me a sidelong look, her lips twitching in a smirk. “Maybe we can find something for you to try on too, Griffin.”
I bite back a laugh. God help me, she thinks that joke will deter me. All it does is make me harder.
The saleswoman offers a warm laugh. “Sadly, we don’t have anything for men. But we have plenty of things men will enjoy. This way, please.”
The clerk draws the curtain around a small alcove, hooks a few sets inside, and leaves us with a knowing smile.
Reese shoots me a look. “You can’t stay in here while I change.”
I drop into the chair across from the mirror, spreading my knees, forearms braced. “I’m not going anywhere. Come on, beautiful, show me.”
She slips her hair nervously behind her ears and chews her lower lip. “No laughing. Promise me.”
I cross my heart and hold up my hands. “Trust me, that’s definitely not what I’ll be doing.”
She puffs out a breath and disappears behind the curtain. Hangers rattle, followed by muffled muttering. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this? I was looking at a piece of furniture.”
“And now you’re looking at lingerie. Don’t overthink it, Reese. Just own how gorgeous you are.”
Silence. A beat.
“Fine,” she concedes. More rattling ensues, followed by a string of soft curses as she fumbles with the lingerie. “I don’t know about this one.”
“Let me see.”
“No, it doesn’t look right.”
“Reese, either you show me or I’m coming in there.” I hope to God she continues arguing.
The curtain parts, and Reese steps out in black satin. Clean lines, cut close to her body, the sheen catching the light. I’ve seen women parade in every kind of lingerie over the years, trying tobutter me up, convince me to stay a little longer. Corsets, garters, lace contraptions meant to shock or awe.
None of them looked like this.
Now I understand the fuss.
Her dark waves skim her chin, falling in soft layers that make her look like she stepped straight out of old Hollywood—every inch of her timeless, untouchable glamour. The silk frames the rest of her like a damn masterpiece—her spine long and elegant, her skin begging to be touched.
I rise, circling behind her, and lift the strap up her shoulder with my knuckle. Goosebumps erupt in its wake. My lips graze her temple, a soft brush that lingers just long enough before I murmur, “This one screams class. Caviar and champagne. A man would see you like this and know he’d have to bleed for a taste.”
She clears her throat and screws up her mouth at her reflection, eyes snagging on flaws only she can see. “I told you, it doesn’t look right.”
