“Because I really want to see how much you like it.”
She studies me, wary. Then she reaches for the package like it might actually be a live cobra.
“Oh, wow. Cohen, did you have someone wrap this for you?”
“Maybe,” I say vaguely.
In reality, it took me twenty damn minutes to get that bow right, but I’ll die before I admit it.
“Of course you did,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “God forbid the golden boy does something with his own hands.”
Oh, Angel, if you only knew the things I want to do with my hands…
But I keep my mouth shut. For now.
Sloane starts unwrapping the present carefully, almost reluctantly. She lifts the lid. Pushes aside the tissue paper.
And freezes.
Her hands still midair. Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
Slowly, like she doesn’t trust her own eyes, she pulls the gift out.
It’s a bodysuit.
Black. Sheer lace.
Small red bows at the hips and along the neckline.
Thatbodysuit.
The one she was convinced I bought for my mysterious “princess.”
The room goes dead silent.
Church-level silent.
Everyone stares at the scrap of sinful fabric dangling from Sloane’s hands like it’s one of the seven deadly sins.
Then—
“COHEN!”
Her scream practically shakes the windowpanes.
“What?” I ask, putting on my best innocent face.
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“I thought you’d like it…”
“It’s lingerie!”
I shrug and lean back, satisfied.
“You’re the one who loves announcing how ‘active’ my love life is and throwing tantrums about it. I figured this might come in handy.”
Her eyes go even wider. She’s bright red now—same shade as those little bows.
