A Little Taste of Naughty (A Shattered Lives Short)

A Little Taste of Naughty (A Shattered Lives Short) Read Free Page A

Book: A Little Taste of Naughty (A Shattered Lives Short) Read Free
Author: Rissa Blakeley
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dress. Woohoo.”
    “I feel your enthusiasm.”
    “Oh, look who’s wearing the sarcasm hat today.”
    With a smile and a bat of her eyelashes, she said, “I’ve learned from the best.”
    I rolled my eyes as we walked into Nordstrom’s. “Why can’t I wear jeans?” I whined.
    “It’s a wedding, Elaina, and you know damn well Henry wants to see you in a dress. Plus, he gave you his credit card, so you’re golden.”
    “I’m not spending a ton of his money. We’ve only been dating about a month. I intend on paying him back when I get another job.”
    “You actually have to look for a job to get one. You can’t just hang out all day, playing Susie Homemaker and being at your boyfriend’s beck and call.”
    “Oh, can it, bitch,” I grumbled.
    Claire sighed. “If you don’t want to spend too much of his money, be sensible. I’m willing to bet he couldn’t care less if you paid him back.”
    “I will someway, somehow.”
    When we arrived in the dress department, I was completely lost. And don’t forget grumpy. As I stared at the array of colors and fabrics, my palms sweated. I wiped them on my jeans and asked, “So…what’s the ‘in’ color?”
    “Ummm… I believe it’s navy or some darker shade of blue.”
    Claire pulled a few hideous pieces from the racks. “How about these?”
    I lifted a brow. “Who do you think I am? Holly Glam Whore?”
    “What’s wrong with them?”
    “One’s a short tank that’ll barely cover my lady bits, and there are more sequins on this dress than at a drag show.”
    She threw me a healthy glare, showing me another dress. “Maybe this then?”
    “Do I even need to respond to that?”
    “Seriously, Elaina. Stop being like this. You make me not want to help.”
    “Sorry,” I whispered. “I would just rather…”
    “Do as you please, like everything else,” she snapped.
    “PMS?”
    “If PMS is Marc, then yes.”
    “Yikes. Do you want to talk about it?”
    “Nope.”
    I mouthed, Okay . Then said, “Well, I guess I’ll take a look myself then.”
    Upon glancing around, I found a few dresses which looked acceptable. It seemed as if I was already having better luck than the rest of the week. Maybe because I was with the master of fashion.
    I yanked the hangers off the ranks and headed to the fitting room. “Be out in a flash,” I said, closing the door behind me, feeling like nothing would work.
    I hung the dresses on the hooks, and took a hard look at myself in the mirror. The cream cable knit fisherman’s sweater and my jeans were not the nicest. They were kind of baggy and worn, but they were the epitome of comfy. I pulled my sunglasses off the top of my head, letting my long black hair hang in my face.
    I tugged off my sweater and pulled off my jeans, and took another look at myself in the mirror. I spun a bit, checking out my backside Henry loved so much. I wasn’t skinny, but I wasn’t too overweight, either. Poking at my belly, I shrugged. Just soft, I suppose.
    Henry said he loved my body. Maybe someday I would go to the gym with him.
    I pulled on the first dress. “Ohhh, no. Nope, not going to work,” I whispered. The deep “V” showed off my nonexistent cleavage.
    The next one was a floor-length number. “Oh, hell no.”
    With little hope, I murmured a small prayer while glancing up at the ceiling. “Please…oh, please, let this be the one.”
    It was short—very short, like I better keep my panties in check short—boho-chic with bell sleeves. The scalloped-edge embroidered fabric shifted and flowed as I moved. The under-dress fit like a fucking glove. However, my knee-high socks covered in neon smiley faces did nothing for the look.
    Twisting around several times, I admired my reflection. I felt like I was looking in a funhouse mirror for a moment, but then smiled and whispered, “Okay, this might work.” I opened the door slowly and peeked out, feeling a little self-conscious to walk out and show Claire. “Is there anyone

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