Chloe swung open the bedroom door with a flourish, as if revealing a grand performance. I hesitated at the threshold, my heart racing.
What lay before me was a transformation I hadn’t anticipated.
Gone was the familiar comfort of my own space. Instead, a massive photograph dominated the wall, capturing a moment that felt both intimate and foreign: Chloe and Dean, arms entwined, grinning like they were the only two people in the world. The image radiated a perfect couple’s bliss.
The rest of the room? It was a chaotic whirlwind. ‘Bridal Luxe’ magazines were strewn across the floor, their glossy pages promising fairy-tale weddings and perfect lives.
She really seemed to be obsessed with that blog.
My own bedroom, once a serene sanctuary, now felt like a distant memory.
An eye-catching red satin bra lay draped carelessly over the armchair, while a tube of lipstick sat uncapped on the dresser, a silent witness to hurried moments. The bed was a battlefield of rumpled sheets, infused with the lingering scents of passion and expensive perfume. And there, on the nightstand, unmistakably obvious, was a half-open box of condoms, like a glaring reminder of their intimate escapades.
I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “You always leave your birth control on display?”
Chloe shot back without missing a beat, “Dean’s virile. Can’t risk it.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather.
“Oh, he’s virile now? How cute,” I replied, my voice light and teasing. “Back then, he needed a pep talk and a prayer.”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features.
I raised my hands in mock surrender, “But hey, practice makes perfect. Glad I could be his warm-up act.”
“Still bitter, Sav?” Chloe hissed, her tone sharp.
“Trust me, I’ve had Dean. The hype’s better than the ride. Anyway, enjoy!” I shot back, a smirk playing on my lips.
Chloe’s eye twitched, a sure sign that my words had struck a nerve.
“Roman, on the other hand? Feels like I just upgraded from a toy car to a Ferrari,” I added, my tone laced with a playful challenge.
To my surprise, she burst into laughter, the sound brightening the room. “Silly, unsteady Sav. Ignorance is truly bliss.”
“You got something to say, Chlo?” I pressed, my curiosity piqued.
“We’ll find out,” she replied cryptically, opening her walk-in closet and diving into its depths as if nothing had transpired.
I edged closer to the nightstand, my voice smooth as honey. “You know they expire, right? Or maybe you just… don’t use them long enough.” I let the words hang in the air, a teasing smile on my face. “That explains a lot.”
Chloe emerged from her closet, a bikini in hand. She turned to me, her expression a mixture of challenge and amusement. “Here. Hope you’re comfortable with minimal coverage.”
Her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced.
From the depths of her oversized Dior tote, she produced something so tiny it could easily be mistaken for a brightly colored ribbon. I took one look at it and raised an unimpressed brow.
“That’s a bikini?” I questioned, my disbelief evident.
I accepted the bikini from her, the red fabric strappy and daring, cut so scandalously that it bordered on lingerie.
“You’re scared you can’t pull it off?” Chloe teased, a playful glint in her eyes. “Scared of a little skin fold?”
I didn’t flinch. “No. This’ll do. Just what I needed,” I replied confidently.
I slipped into the en-suite bathroom to change. When I emerged, Chloe was absorbed in her phone, but as soon as her gaze lifted, her expression froze in shock.
I stood in the doorway, striking a pose as if I were on a runway.
The bikini clung to me like a second skin, unapologetic in its revealing nature. The top barely concealed anything, while the bottoms were little more than a whisper of fabric. Yet, I wore it with an air of confidence, chin high, curves on display, and my hair piled haphazardly in a messy knot.
My bare hips curved enticingly, my breasts barely contained by the minuscule triangles, but my confidence shimmered as brightly as the sunscreen that glistened on my skin.
Chloe’s jaw clenched visibly, frustration and surprise battling for dominance.
I tilted my head, a playful smirk on my lips. “Thanks, Chloe,” I said sweetly. “You’re such a generous hostess.”
With that, I turned and strutted down the hallway, relishing the feeling of power before she could utter another word.
It was time to give them a show.
As I stepped out in my bikini, a hush fell over the pool, as if the world had suddenly paused, all eyes turning to me.
Alyssa, ever the dramatist, lowered her sunglasses with an exaggerated flair and let out a low whistle. “Holy hell,” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with awe.
Roman’s reaction was instantaneous. The moment he caught sight of me, he turned, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. His eyes were dark, his mouth slightly open, pupils wide as if he were entranced. “Fuck me,” he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips.
With a confident stride, I glided past him, my movements slow and deliberate, each step a carefully crafted performance designed to capture his attention. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, a palpable force that urged me forward.
Once I reached the edge of the infinity pool, I lowered myself into the water with a grace that felt almost ethereal, every ripple seemingly choreographed for maximum impact. As I resurfaced, the fabric of my bikini clung to me like a scandal, accentuating every curve.
The silence around the pool was thick, almost suffocating.
“Sav, that should be illegal in at least four states,” Alyssa shouted, breaking the spell.
A soft cough came from somewhere behind me, and I heard the unmistakable sound of someone dropping their sunglasses in shock.
Roman swam closer, his jaw clenched tight, the tension radiating off him like heat from a fire. “You planning to kill me in public?” he asked, his voice low and laced with something that felt dangerously close to desire.
I smiled, tilting my head slightly. “Why? Is it working?” The challenge in my tone was unmistakable.
He swallowed hard, his gaze unwavering.
He was already in the water, and I took the opportunity to disappear beneath the surface, the cool water enveloping me like a secret. But I couldn’t resist the pull of his presence, and I emerged again, each stroke drawing me closer to him as if some invisible force was at play.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.