Although she appears to lack confidence in her words, she says, “I guess Sin is okay with it.”
“Wonderful,” I say, dryly.
She flashes me a smile. “Be nice.”
“I’m being nice,” I insist, my gaze raking over the thin pink robe wrapped around her body. “That what you’re wearing?”
Seeming to just realize she’s barely dressed, Laurel pulls the satin closer to her body. “I should probably put clothes on, huh? Where are we going? I need to know what to wear.”
Instead of answering her, I head upstairs to her bedroom.
“Um, where are you going?” she asks, trailing behind me.
“To pick out an outfit for you to wear,” I say, simply.
“You’re picking out my clothes?” she demands.
“Yes, I am,” I reply.
I wait for her objections—which I’ll ignore—but she just frowns at me as I open the closet and turn on the light.
“Do you need to shower before we leave?” I ask.
“No. I showered after Sin left this morning.”
I flip through a few hangers, disregarding the pants, briefly considering the dresses. A white sleeveless knit sweater catches my eye. I drape the hanger over my arm and look for a matching skirt. A pretty cream-colored skirt with a metallic design seems to work, so I grab it and hand both to Laurel.
“These fit you?” I ask, indicating the heels lined up on the floor.
“They do, but I’m kind of married to the white boots Sin gave me.”
I shake my head, squatting down and grabbing a pair of nude heels with a bunch of straps that will look good around her dainty ankles. “Here you go.”
Laurel huffs at me, but she hauls her little ass into the bathroom to change anyway.
Finally, something is easy. I turn off the closet light and close the door, but then I find my gaze drawn to the bed she and Sin clearly slept in last night. Sin doesn’t have a housekeeper, and apparently Laurel doesn’t make beds, because the sheets are wrinkled, the blankets a tangled mess. Sin’s words about sinking his dick inside Laurel come back to haunt me. It’s impossible not to envision her in that bed with her legs spread, Sin thrusting between them.
Fuck, I hate that. I hate that he’s fucking her. I tell myself it won’t be much longer, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. For all Laurel—and the state of this fucking bed—tells me she isn’t mine, it doesn’t feel that way to me. I remember her soft skin snuggled against my side as we lay naked in bed, and I want to feel it again.
That’s a much nicer thought. Laurel gazing up at me with those big blue eyes, so full of affection. I’ll push my fingers through her hair and cradle her head, pulling her close and kissing her.
Now I can stop thinking about the bed, so I leave Sin’s room and go out to the hall, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom to wait for Laurel.
She doesn’t take long. She emerges with her long dark hair in a messy bun on top of her head, dressed up in the outfit I picked out for her. She’s only wearing a little bit of make-up, but to be honest, she doesn’t need even that much. Laurel is a natural beauty, with those perfect lips dominating most of my attention anyway. Her clear blue eyes are the perfect shade. It’s all I can do not to catch her around the waist and tug her against me.
Too soon.
Maybe later.
“All right, we have plans this afternoon, but I thought you might take a little longer to get ready, so we have some time to kill first. I’ll let you choose that part—would you rather hit the bookstore, or—?”
Her eyes light up and she doesn’t even let me finish. “Bookstore!”
“I figured.”
“I’m dead broke, but I could window shop at a bookstore for hours. You do not know what you have just signed up for, Rafe Morelli.”
I did guess what I was signing up for, the only tricky part was determining which bookstore would make Laurel happier—the pricey, rare bookstore tucked away in the shops at The Venetian, or a regular bookstore with a far better selection, but far less wow-factor.