Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [80]
Braden
Her heart pumping fast, she reached in the bag. Nestled in pale pink tissue paper she found an ensemble of champagne-colored lace: a demi-bra, a pretty cami with triangular, curving cups, and a sexy thong. She remembered a time when he’d asked her for her bra size, and she supposed this was why. Only then, she’d imagined him having more items delivered—she couldn’t have conceived of him coming here and turning her sexual world upside down.
Without hesitation, she stepped into the lacy undies, which sported a little bow in back where the tiny strips of fabric met, then put on the bra and walked to the mirrored doors of the closet. They fit perfectly and felt expensive. She had to let out a heavy breath just looking at herself—the rise of her breasts from the bra that barely concealed her nipples, the slope of the panties hugging her cunt.
Returning to the bed, she slid the cami on over the bra. Both were necessary if she really intended to don the cami as “outerwear”—its cups offered no support, and she wanted her chest to look pert and firm, wanted the curves to swell sexily above.
Which begged the question—was she really wearing this? Tonight? To dinner?
She bit her lip as she studied herself in the mirror again, then reached for the jeans she’d worn last night. She would have liked some strappy shoes to complete the outfit, but overall, the jeans and cami alone made for a sexy, confident look.
A look which, if it were summer, she would actually wear on a date or out with friends. But if Braden and Tommy showed up to find her in this, with snow outside, when only last night she’d worn a sweater and snowflake socks to dinner—it would make a statement. For Laura, it would say Fuck me as clearly as fishnet stockings and stiletto heels said it for Candy next door. They would come in, they would see her, and they would know what she wanted.
The question was: Did she? Could she? The answer didn’t seem much clearer than it had earlier today.
Unless you considered that she stood here dressed for after-dinner sex when she knew her lover and his friend were due to arrive within the hour.
Unless you considered the way her pussy burned right now, and the sense that her breasts felt bigger than usual, aching to burst free from the champagne lace that held them.
Unless you considered that the very darkest part of her wondered what it would feel like, wanted to know, wanted to experience it, wanted to throw all caution to the wind for the first time in her life.
That’s when she heard the door open below. Damn, they were early.
“Laura, honey, we’re home. Are you upstairs?”
She rushed to the doorway and out onto the little bridge that overlooked the foyer. “Just on my way downstairs right now.”
And the next thing she knew, she stood before both men, smelling the cold they’d brought in and watching them stomp the snow off their shoes, then seeing them peer up at her . . . and smile. Braden’s look was particularly knowing, and particularly heated, as his gaze took in her top before rising to her eyes. “You look great tonight, baby,” he said, lifting one hand to her cheek as he leaned in to deliver a short, slightly chilled kiss.
But Laura didn’t feel the cold—only the heat, the slow fire that had just ignited in the room between the three of them. “Thanks,” she said, trying to disguise a last somewhat nervous swallow. Then she turned to Tommy, ready to be bold, ready to show Braden she could be as adventurous as he wanted her to be. “I’m glad you could join us again tonight.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tommy leaned in to kiss her cheek, his hand curling warm at her waist, and the simple contact sent a soft frisson of arousal echoing through her. “My pleasure,” he said, and Laura forced herself to meet his blue eyes, just to see what she found there. Nothing smarmy or presumptuous but a tinge of sensual awareness that she couldn’t deny. As she turned for the kitchen, her nipples rubbed against her bra.
So was it true? Had