Then I step out the door and leave him there.

I don’t know if it was the right thing to say, but it was the truth.

Sometimes that’s all that’s needed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Shoes shoes shoes.

I’m not a fan—okay, that’s a damned lie. I am a fan, and when Reign is taking me to a charity function and gives me money for new shoes, who am I to say no?

“These ones are hot?” Autumn says, holding up a pair of strappy red pumps.

“I’m kind of done with red, but they are hot. Maybe they have another color?”

She flips them over and gasps. “They’re like, five hundred dollars.”

I frown and take them from her hands. “I don’t think I can possibly grasp spending that much on shoes. Maybe if it was my own money . . .”

My phone beeps in my purse, and I quickly pull it out while still mulling over the shoes.

R: Just buy them.

Okay that’s freaky. I lift my head a look around.

T – I didn’t sign up for a stalker.

R: You’ve been gone three hours, and I’ve not had one picture of shoes. You ALWAYS send me pictures of your shoes. Which means you’re standing there, staring at a pair you really want, but the price freaks you out. Get them.

T: I’m going to admit it. This little mental connection of ours freaks me out.

R: Just get them, babe.

T: Fine, you twisted my arm.

R: Then come and get ready with me.

Lusty sigh.

T: Okay. Laters.

I pick up the shoes and turn to Autumn. “Looks like it’s my lucky day!”

Autumn smiles. “He said you could have them?”

I grin and nod.

We finish shopping and then find a café close by for lunch.

“I’m starving,” Autumn grumbles, staring down at the menu. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just going for the fried chicken. It’s amazing here.”

She groans with delight. “Oh my God, yes.”

“Are you pregnant or something?” I laugh at her.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t think so. I haven’t had enough sex to get knocked up.”

“So, are you going to tell me who you got lucky with the other night?”

Her cheeks flush. “It’s . . .”

“Autumn,” I plead. “We’re best friends. We should be able to tell each other things.”

“The thing is . . . he’s not my usual type.”

I wave my hands. “Do explain.”

She hesitates, as if searching for the right words. “He . . . ah . . . is a biker.”

My eyes widen. “You fucked a biker?”

“Yes,” she says, dropping her head into her hands. “In my defense, I was drunk.”

“Was he at least a hot biker?”

She looks up, nodding with wide eyes.

“Did he hurt you?”

She groans. “Tia, not again. I told you, no one hurt me.”

I frown, but sigh. “Fine. So tell me how sex with an amazing biker is?”

She flushes. “It’s . . . ah-mazing, Tia. I can’t explain how good it was. He was wild, and so . . . big.”

“You mean his cock?” I gasp, leaning in closer.

“Not just his cock.” She giggles. “It was all of him. He has these massive tattoo-covered muscles and these abs . . .”

I sigh. “Oh, you’re such a devil. Are you going to see him again?”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t even know his name.”

“Oh? Maybe Cade or Spike know him.”

“No,” she says quickly. “I’m not asking. It was too good to be true. Besides, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be an old lady.”

I laugh. “You never know until you go.”

She rolls her eyes. “Such an optimist.”

We both laugh as the waiter places our meals down.

So, Autumn and a biker?

Interesting.

~*~*~*~

I head over to Reign’s house after lunch to get ready with him. I find him in his bathroom, shaving. Damn. I like the two-day growth he usually walks around in.

He’s got a black, ultra-soft looking towel wrapped around his hips. His back, oh my . . . hard, defined muscles that move as he glides the razor over his jaw. He meets my eyes in the mirror and gives me one of his rare, glorious half-smiles.

“Get your shoes?” he asks, rinsing the razor before pressing it to his jaw again.

“Yeah,” I say. Oh God, was my voice just . . . breathy?

He leans down, dropping the razor and cupping his hands to fill them with water, and then he splashes his face. He turns to me and I see a tiny patch of hair he’s missed. Without thinking, I walk over, take the razor and go up on my tiptoes in front of him. “You missed a bit,” I say, running the razor gently over his cheek.

It’s only when I stop I realize the look he’s giving me.

He’s never given me a look like that before. It’s so warm and . . . almost . . . I mean, if I wasn’t sure that he cared too much for Slutena, I’d say it was a caring look. Like an I like you a lot look.

No, not Reign Braxton.

I quickly step back. “Ah, I’m just going to get dressed and then we’ll go.”

I rush out before he has the chance to say another word.

I go into the spare room, stripping quickly and pulling my short but elegant black dress over my head. It’s a strapless number, with a crisscross back and a hemline that sits just above my knees. It hugs all the right places, but isn’t skintight. With my new red pumps, and my blond hair down, I will admit I don’t look half bad. Running a straightener through my locks is enough to give me the hairstyle I want—a few pins later and I’m done.