Page 78 of Ignition

One second, he was all over me. The next, my fingers unfurled from his hair as he fixed my bra and yanked my sweater down, then stepped back as if electrocuted.

He dragged a hand over his face and pretended to be interested in a shelf I was sure he couldn’t even see, not with the hard-on tenting his slacks, not with those glassy, glazed-over eyes.

My trembling fingers smoothed my hair as I gulped down air, chest heaving, and he panted like he’d run a mile and clawed at his hair, gaze dark and heavy on me, almost a physical touch.

I didn’t wait to be discovered.

My teeth sank into my swollen mouth, before my eyes snapped away from his, and I turned on my heel and shuffled out, footsteps faster, louder than they should have been.

I prayed I wouldn’t run into anyone.

If I hadn’t been out of my mind with need, I might have lingered on that flicker of hurt when he’d pulled back.

But as my mattress dipped under me, and my hand skated between my thighs, I had more important things to take care of.

Chapter twenty-three

Mia

“Ugh, what’s wrong with this one?” Pri’s irate voice came from just outside the posh changing area.

She might have had the patience of a saint, but even a saint got testy—especially when it was the tenth dress and the third shop of the day.

Heavy velvet curtains of pale buttery white encircled the changing room, warm bulbs of light spilling over the dark blue sequins on the mermaid dress I kept tugging at. I twirled and frowned at my reflection, before pulling the curtains aside and stepping into the lounge.

It was as far from second-hand shops as it got.

A spiral chandelier illuminated the cream velvet-draped sofa Pri huddled on, perusing a magazine plucked from the glossy pile strewn over the glass coffee table. Soft pop music and silence reigned supreme, as if we were suspended in a bubble of fabrics and flattering light.

Gone were the fluorescent lights, the shop assistants cackling too loudly, and the impatient elbows making room in the clearance area.

Her expert eyes roved over me as she swirled her glass of complimentary Prosecco.

The nude heels they’d given me sank into the fluffy white rug as I did a slow pirouette and Pri hummed noncommittally.

“It’s not bad, just—”

I made to sink onto the sofa next to her, but she arched a brow and pointed behind me. Before I could protest, she said, “Don’t be a baby. Get back in there.”

She did a little twirling motion with her finger.

“This isn’t bloody Pretty Woman,” I grumbled under my breath as I eyed the racks of shimmery fabric warily.

“Hmm, you sure? I am sexy enough to pass for Richard Gere.”

I rolled my eyes in mock-consternation, though the chuckle betrayed me, before the heavy curtains whispered shut again. I padded to the rack, fingers brushing silks, cashmere, and blends I couldn’t even pronounce.

Bzzt.

A familiar jolt of heat flashed through my chest, chased by a flood of relief for the much-needed distraction.

J: What are you up to tonight? x

M: Shopping with Pri. I hear I can’t get away with the ol’ sack-of-potatoes for this party :)

You?

A hint of dazzling metallic shimmer caught my eye, and the sequined gown whispered off me, before I pulled the olive green one off the rack.