of low, insatiable need. He’d told me that I would think of him and whether that was merely an idea he planted in my mind or the unavoidable truth, I thought of nothing else until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. I awoke the next morning, covered in sweat with the naked lower half of my body twisted in the sheets. I’d dreamed of him—dreamed of his mouth and hands on me. I felt a thrilling dread and ravenous ache as he moved to claim me. But every time his body covered mine, the dream shifted leaving me unsatisfied.
Sitting up, I grabbed my mobile and checked the time, surprised to see that it was so early in the morning. Dawn streamed through the windows, and I realized that I’d forgotten to draw them last night when I went to bed. I’d been too turned on to think of anything else but relief.
Despite the early hour, I found myself too high-strung to fall back asleep, so I wandered into the attached bath. After washing off a few lingering remnants of make-up I’d been too distracted to see to last night, I knotted my hair up and turned on the shower. The water felt good on my skin as I reached for a bar of soap and lathered it in my hand. Sliding my hand between my legs, I washed away the wet heat that had built there overnight and did my best to ignore the thrum of longing that remained. I was beginning to understand that there was only one way to deal with the way Spencer had gotten under my skin. The itch I’d felt—the one too deep to reach—could only be relieved by one thing. Something he promised to give me even as he made me wait.
I closed my eyes and let the water wash over me as I processed the subtle shift that had taken place overnight. When I’d agreed to take Kerrigan’s place, I had decided I was willing to sleep with Spencer. It was a part of the arrangement I hadn’t lingered over. It made me feel dirty like I’d sold my soul for the money Tod Belmond had dangled over me. But last night, that had changed.
I wanted to sleep with Spencer. Every part of me yearned to be in his bed. I longed for him to make good on the dirty promises he had made.
By the time I stepped out of the shower and dried off, my arousal had ticked up again, reminding me that I never managed to quench the desire I felt.
I explored the closet, somewhat relieved to have the space to myself without Giles or Iris picking out options and overseeing every choice. I’d barely paused to look at Kerrigan’s intimates yesterday. Now I opened every drawer and reveled in the delicate lace and skimpy garments I discovered. While Kerrigan didn’t own many white gowns, she had a surprising array of white lace undergarments. I found myself drawn to them, imagining myself stretched across Spencer’s bed in nothing else but the white lingerie, a symbol of the final offering of my innocence.
I chose a matching set in a dainty white mesh that had roses embroidered across the cup of the bra and along the waistband of the thong-style knickers. Perhaps, Kerrigan had picked her outfits starting with her shoes, but I found myself inclined to start here. Iris had told me that what a woman wore was her armor. It seemed to me that what I wore beneath was mine.
I did, however, begin choosing the rest of my ensemble with my shoes. Opting for a pair of canary-yellow Louboutins that laced at the ankle, I placed them on the stool and went from there. It was surprisingly easy to employ her method. The shoes were a statement that had to be matched but not overwhelmed. A few minutes later, I’d decided on a pair of wide-legged silk pants in a bold floral print that had pops of yellow and a cropped silk tank in a deep, complementary blue. The high waist of the pants revealed only a sliver of skin and paired with the shoes were just the right length.
Opening Kerrigan’s jewelry drawer, I paused, momentarily struck that every item in it was real. Real gold. Real silver. Real diamonds. I’d been entrusted with all of it.
“In a year, you can have real jewelry, too,” I reminded myself. It was mind-boggling to consider I might be glimpsing my