Rhett lets out a giant breath, pulling me into his arms and kissing me with relief.
“Please don’t force Wren to try on things she doesn’t like,” Elliot says to Oliver in a cautious voice.
Pressing a hand to his chest, Oliver tries to feign a hurt look. “I’d never!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then put the boob-less one back.”
His face falls. Rhett shoves him toward the front of the store, shaking his head, and Oliver listens without a second glance at me.
Turning to me, Elliot takes my hands in his. “If you get uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to do this—”
I kiss him to shut him up. “Just sit. I’ll be back soon.”
When I head back out front alone, Oliver already has an armful of lacy, colorful lingerie sets.
“To be approved by you, of course. And I put the boob-less one back. I promise.”
With a kiss on his cheek, I say, “I know. I trust you.” And I mean it. Then, looking at everything he has in his hands already, I frown. “This is a lot for one weekend, Oliver.”
His smile wavers, but only for a second. “Well, don’t women like wearing sexy stuff even if no one sees it? For confidence or something like that?”
“Something like that.” I pull a tiny silk robe from a rack, checking the size before tossing it onto Oliver’s pile. He just grins.
Damn. He was dead serious when he said he wants to spoil me.
Fifteen minutes later, Oliver and I head to the back of the store, ignoring the blushing woman behind the checkout counter. Thankfully, no one else is here, so we have free rein of the place.
Elliot gives me a questioning look as Oliver brings everything into one of the dressing rooms. With a thumbs up, I head inside and shoo Oliver out.
It doesn’t take long for me to pull on the first set, a tiny light blue thong and a matching bra that pushes my boobs up. But when I turn to look at myself in the mirror, my stomach turns.
Over the years, I’ve done a lot of work to come to appreciate and love my body. But a lot of that was trashed by the hateful comments Adam would make whenever I dared to show my body when I was bloated or after I ate.
I clench my fists. Food in your stomach is normal, Wren. You’re human. And humans fucking eat.
But Adam’s comments fill my mind, and tears fill my eyes.
They won’t say those kinds of things to you.
They’re different.
. . . But what if they’re not?
“Wren?” Oliver’s voice comes from the other side of the curtains, soft and concerned, and I realize I’m sniffling. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah.” But I can’t even say a single word without my voice breaking.
The curtains open, and Oliver steps inside before shutting them again. He frowns at my tears, and then at my arms hiding my stomach.
For a second, he looks angry. But then he takes a deep breath and tugs me closer to him. “Tell me what’s going through your mind right now.”
I shake my head, looking anywhere but him.
“Are you insecure? Did I get you the wrong size in something?”
I inhale a shuddering breath as more tears fall onto my cheeks. But I just can’t make myself say it. It’s too much, too intimate for a man I can’t let myself get attached to.
For a moment, I wish he’d tell me he doesn’t like my body, just so I can get out of this weekend. That way, my heart isn’t at risk of getting trampled over at all.
“Stab in the dark,” he says lowly, his fingers tracing over my arms that are still locked over my stomach. “You’re insecure about how you look?”
With a sigh that I hope says, I hate you for reading me so well, I nod.
He pulls my arms away from my body. “The expectation of women to be stick thin is stupid, and it does more harm than good. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” I mumble.
He kneels, holding my hips in his hands and kissing my stomach. “I like you like this. It means we’re feeding you well. And I obviously like spoiling you.” He grins up at me.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper, wiping at my cheeks.
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, princess. Do you want to try everything on without showing us?” He kisses my stomach again, and it takes everything in me not to suck it in. I have a feeling he wouldn’t like that.
I nod.
“Do you still want to spend the weekend with us?”
I hesitate, squeezing my eyes shut so I don’t see the disappointment I just know is written all over his face.
“You can say no, Wren. But we’re still buying you whatever you like from here and sending you home with all your clothes.”
I sniffle, barely holding back a sob, and look at him. “I want to, Oliver. I do. But I’m scared. Really, really scared.”
For a moment, he looks wounded. “That we’ll hurt you?”
I shake my head. “That I’ll hurt myself.”
He stands, brushing my hair out of my face. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that. But I would if I could.”
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his vanilla and woodsy scent. We stay like that for a minute or two before I look up at him. “I’ll come back with you.”
He grins.
“You’re sure they won’t mind that I’m not going to show what I try on?” My fingers fist his shirt.
“Positive. All of this isn’t for us, princess. It’s for you.” After I give him a disbelieving look, he laughs. “Okay, it’s mostly for you. But I can’t lie. I’m excited to see what you pick out.” He leans closer and murmurs in my ear, “And even more excited to tear it all off of you so we can use you like the pretty fucktoy you are.”
His words send a shiver through me. Then I push him toward the curtains. “I’ll be back soon. And thank you, Oliver.”
He kisses me on the forehead, squeezes my hand, and then disappears.
I turn to the lacy pile of lingerie sitting in the corner of the dressing room and smile.
Told you. They’re nothing like Adam.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RHETT
SEEING WREN’S eyes red from crying sends a wave of fury through me that I’m barely able to get under control. I stand behind her while she checks out with Oliver, trying to calm my facial expressions. When the checkout lady gives me a frightened look, I figure I’m doing a shitty job.
Typical.
Turning away, I take a few deep breaths. Trace my fingers over the seams of my jeans and focus on the feeling of the rough fabric. Crack my knuckles.
Whoever dared to make her feel insecure about herself is going to pay—dearly. And I’m already pretty sure I know who it was.
I feel a soft hand wrap around mine. It sends a wave of calm through me that still feels foreign in my body. I kiss the top of Wren’s head before giving her what I hope is a convincing smile.
“Ready?”
“Definitely.”