I’ve never felt more exposed. The red lacy bra and thong are somehow worse than being naked. Because this says—Hey there, I totally planned on getting laid tonight. And oh, I bought these to impress someone. Not you, by the way. Though, I’m really happy it is you who’s here. Awkward. Plus, I don’t know what kind of girl Monroe usually dates. I’m not exactly a size-two model. No quarters are bouncing off this belly. And what if I look ridiculous and like I’m trying too hard and— “Fuck,” Monroe breathed. “I knew you were going to kill me, but jeezus. You look . . . wow.” Monroe steps into my space again, claiming my waist with those big hands of his, and I’m no longer out there alone and self-conscious. The heated look on his face says he approves. No, not just approves. Fully endorses. He lets his hands drift down over my ass and draws me against him. “You have way too many clothes on,”
