Free Broken by Megan Hart Page A

kidding? They don’t make those in my size.” He grinned and raised the bed a bit higher with the remote control. “Stand up. Put it on.”
    I stood. The baby-doll nightie had thin straps and a pair of matching thong panties. It wasn’t something I’d have chosen for myself, but I could see the appeal.
    “Where did you get this?” A vision of Adam sending Dennis on the errand heated my cheeks.
    “I ordered it online. Dennis wrapped it for me, but don’t worry, he didn’t see what was in the box. I was worried it might not be what I ordered but I knew you wouldn’t want him to check it out.”
    “Is it what you ordered?” I held it up, turning it from side to side.
    “Oh, hell yes.”
    We hadn’t made love in a long time. Nearly a year, as a matter of fact, the last time prompted by Valentine’s Day. It had ended badly, with both of us in tears. I wondered, now, what had prompted this effort and knew it was the man in the store I’d told Adam about.
    “Put it on.” Adam’s voice was hoarse with a familiar longing, and I couldn’t deny him.
    I’d been naked in front of him thousands of times. In the dark, in the light. He’d seen me change a tampon, use the toilet. Held my hair when I puked. And still, I hesitated to strip out of my clothes in front of him now.
    “I’ll go into the bathroom.” I offered it hesitantly, uncertain, and to my relief he nodded.
    “Yes. Do that.”
    In the bathroom I avoided my reflection as I took off my clothes and laid them neatly on the chair. I held up the lingerie to my bare skin and shivered with sudden, fierce longing. When had I last worn something like this? Garments made to arouse? I favored the practicality of cotton panties and bras, serviceable underwear meant to cover, not entice.
    I felt like a virgin again. I slipped the panties, no more than a triangle of lace held together by two straps, up my legs. The thong slipped between my buttocks, an odd but sensual sensation I wasn’t sure I liked. The lace covered my pubic hair while the straps crossed my hips, where the bones most definitely didn’t jut forth as they had on our wedding night.
    “Sadie?”
    “I’ll be right there!”
    I pulled the gown over my head and adjusted the fit. It barely covered my breasts and split in the front to swing open as I moved. The hem hit me mid-thigh but provided no real coverage. The entire outfit had been designed to reveal and enhance, not conceal.
    When I looked at last into the mirror, I saw my cheeks had flushed and my eyes sparkled. My nipples had gone tight beneath the nylon, and already the lace between my legs was rub-rubbing in a way that made me shiver.
    It’s a rare woman who can view herself in an outfit like that and not find flaws, but I wasn’t unhappy with what I saw. I was no longer a bride, true, but time hadn’t been cruel, either. No children had stretched my stomach and breasts, and diet and exercise had kept me in shape. There was no reason for me not to show my husband my body, displayed in the finery of his gift. Yet it took me a full minute to gather the courage to turn the door handle and step out.
    Candlelight is forgiving, but if I’d had any doubts about how Adam would see me they vanished the moment I stepped through the door. His eyes gleamed, and his low whistle of appreciation sent a warm flutter through me. I moved closer to the bed, foolishly shy, and twirled slowly so the material flared out from my hips and thighs.
    “You’re fucking gorgeous,” Adam said.
    My heart skipped at his words, so affecting. It had been a long time since he’d written poems praising the arch of my eyebrows and fullness of my lips. “You like it?”
    “What do you think?”
    In the past, his erection would have let me know how much. Now I had to be satisfied with the curve of his mouth and tone of his voice. I was ashamed to find them poor substitutes, and forced myself not to think about it.
    “Come here.”
    I moved closer to the bed. Déjà vu