I could see the hope and excitement building as Taran withdrew her flame. Her wicked smile easily returned and so did that sultry gleam to her stare. “He likes me.”
“Yes.”
“And he wants me.”
“Apparently so.” I didn’t mention Gemini’s sexual frustration. Taran had been tortured enough.
Taran’s full lips puckered with anticipation and her aura sizzled with enough heat to scorch my sweater. “I’m gonna knock that wolf right out of his pants.”
Yup. No doubt. I played with my nails. I wanted to do the same for Aric, except I needed an expert’s help to do it. “There’s something else I have to discuss with you.”
Taran crossed her arms and leaned back, curiosity about my sudden awkwardness making her angle an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Aric and I, um, have been having a lot of, ah, you know—we’re engaging in intimacy.”
Taran laughed. “Celia. I wouldn’t call all the gorilla sex you’ve been having with him ‘engaging in intimacy.’ Girl, you better get on the pill before he knocks you up.”
“I’m already on it. It, um, actually took full effect last night. But I, uh, took added precautions this morning just in case.” I cleared my throat for all the good it did me. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d go lingerie shopping with me today?”
A devious smile crept across her face. “Why don’t we all go? I need something to be devirginized in.”
CHAPTER 16
After breakfast, Taran drove us to a South Tahoe boutique that specialized in designer lingerie. When the salesclerks greeted her by name, I knew we’d come to the right place. After a brief consultation with the staff, Taran had us custom-fitted for bras. Turned out, I was a 34-C, not a 36-B.
Taran wandered the aisles, picking out lingerie she determined would best fit our tastes. Her view of me, however, was sexier than I believed myself to be. I’d always worn feminine undergarments, but they were cute and cotton, not lacy, silky, and enticing. After all, before Aric, there’d been no one to seduce. After a rather revealing and embarrassing hour in the dressing room, I was prepared for my night.
When we returned home, Taran laid out the plans like the diva of seduction she believed herself to be. “Okay, everyone put on your choice of underwear for the evening with the shoes you’ll be wearing. Celia, I think you should wear the pink bra and panties with the black lace. Here.” She shoved a pair of strappy sandals high enough to make my nose bleed. “No mules, UGGs, or running shoes allowed.”
I gawked at the shoes and the lingerie she handed me. The thong alone could have fit in a lipstick case. It was one of the more risqué items Taran had selected. I’d hoped to start off slow and ease my way into that little number. “But this one comes with a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.”
“No shit.” Taran glowered when I continued to gape. “Celia. You’re the one who begged for my help—”
“I didn’t beg—”
“Now run along and get dressed. Just make sure whatever outfit you wear for dinner hides the lingerie.” She hustled us out the door. “Hurry up, we’re running out of time.”
Emme and I arrived in Taran’s room wearing very casual but pretty print dresses. Shayna wore gray leggings under an off-the-shoulder white tunic. I was stunned to find Taran in nothing but red lace and four-inch heels. She threw her hands in the air like we’d committed a major slutty lingerie faux pas. “What the hell are you guys doing? I want you in only underwear and shoes. Take the rest of that shit off.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we’re going to practice posing.”
“Huh?”
Taran tapped her heel and huffed like we’d exhausted the last of her patience. “You have to learn which pose works best to enhance your bodies in your lingerie.” My blank expression only pissed her off further. “It adds to the seduction process!”
Taran sighed when the rest of us exchanged what-the-hell glances. “Watch and learn.” She folded her arms and leaned over her dresser. Emme jumped when Taran threw out her butt like some sort of weapon. Taran continued, unaffected. She flipped her dark hair, pouted her lips, and propelled her cleavage forward like missiles targeting terrorists. I learned two things then. One, Taran had missed her calling as a Victoria’s Secret model. And two, I must have been on crack when I asked her for help.
Taran pushed off from the dresser and placed a hand on her hip, clearly presenting herself as the ruler of the overexaggerated backsides. I thought she expected us to bow, or at the very least applaud. We did neither. Nor did we move. Except for Emme, who eyed the door like she might bolt.