Page 120 of Twisted Play

Cole took my other hand and pulled me deeper into the room, where two racks of clothes flanked a set of mirrors around a dais. “Prepared for you to try on clothes.”

“When Mr. Carter called this morning to let me know you needed a whole new wardrobe, we reached out to everydesigner who makes plus size clothes in the city, and a few as far away as New York,” the saleswoman continued, smiling warmly at me as my heart battered in the confines of my chest, utterly confused from the rollercoaster of emotions these two men put me through. “We’ve been at this since before dawn. I hope you’ll find something you like.”

My heart thumped hard in my chest. “Wait,” I said, looking up at Cole, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “You only owe me one outfit to replace the one you cut up last night.”

“Wrong, sparrow,” Cole purred, tugging me toward the dais. He pushed me up, and I brought my hands down to hold my skirt against my ass, only for him to turn me around until I faced him. Even on the eight inch platform, he towered over me.

Carefully, as if I were a precious artifact that might tumble and shatter at any moment, he moved my hands to his waist and tugged me closer so he could whisper in my ear. “This is the perfect height. I could wrap your leg around my waist and fuck you right here, couldn’t I?”

“Cole, what are you doing?” I shoved at him.

He pushed one of the curls already escaping my braid out of my face. “Whatever the fuck I want. And today, I want to buy shit for my girl.”

“What, so you can feel better about what you’re doing to me?” I asked, hurt shooting through me like an arrow. Of course it was tit for tat with him. It always was, just like it had been earlier this morning.

Cole had the gall to look hurt. “I don’t need to feel better about what I’m doing to you, sparrow. Ilikewhat I’m doing to you. I want to buy you shit because it’s fucking hot to think about you sitting in the staff seats at the game tonight,wearing nothing but clothes my best friend and I picked out for you, soaking wet and needy because I shoved a vibrator up your pussy.”

My lips rounded into a soft “o,” and Cole smiled.

“I don’t do things I don’t want to do, sparrow. And if I want to buy clothes for you so I can parade you around campus looking like the gorgeous, filthy slut you are for me, then I am going to fucking do it.”

The pressure in my chest loosened. This wasn’t because I was embarrassing in my thrifted clothing or because he didn’t like the way I dressed. It was because he wanted to tease me.

And maybe I liked that?

Fuck.

Cole tipped my chin up so he could kiss me, his tenderness such a contrast to earlier that morning, I thought I’d cry from the sweetness. “Now, be a good girl and let me and Tristan spoil you rotten.”

43

TRISTAN

Cole didn’t deservea girl like Eva. Neither did I. And we were assholes for blackmailing her when we could be helping her instead.

I slouched on the couch, watching Eva run her hands over the clothes on the rack, looking up at Cole like she didn’t know whether to fuck him or kill him.

Both, maybe. When she turned again, I caught a sliver of that delectable ass.

“Panties,” I rasped. “She needs underwear if she’s going to try on clothes.” Before Cole could say something cutting, I stood. “What’s your name?” I asked the salesgirl.

“Nina,” she said.

“Nina, my girl here needs lingerie—not just the kind that’ll make a man sit up and notice her, but the kind she can wear all day.”

“Budget?”

“Unlimited,” I answered. Might as well use Cole’s billions for something useful.

Cole’s eyes shot to mine, but instead of annoyance, his expression softened as he looked at me. “That’s right,” heagreed. “Anything she wants. And anythinghewants,” he added, nodding at me.

Nina pulled an armful from the rack and then gestured to Eva. “If you’ll come with me?”

“She can try them on right here,” Cole said. “Give us the room.”

Nina, bless her fuckin’ heart, raised an eyebrow. Her fists clenched in the pockets of her slacks, but she didn’t move. “Mr. Carter, this is a clothing boutique, not a strip club. Ms?—”

She turned and looked at Eva, who was unsuccessfully concealing a grin. “Miss Jackson.”