Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

by Sallinger, Elene

  When she and Claire had arrived, he’d given them bear hugs before excusing himself. He’d promised to be back for the show, leaving Bridget thoroughly confused when he’d said, ‘And about time too.’

  But Claire wasn’t answering any questions. She’d just bolted to the back of store and begun assaulting the bras on the clearance rack.

  Well, enough was enough. It was time for some answers.

  She slipped the nightgown she’d been considering back on the rack and headed over to Claire.

  With her hands on her hips, Bridget said, ‘You gonna tell me what all this is about, darlin’, or shall I leave you to continue abusing the merchandise?’ She waved a hand at the rack in front of Claire. ‘Frankly, I don’t need any of this stuff and you don’t seem to actually be shopping. Come on, sugar. Let’s go get you some maternity clothes. It’ll be fun.’

  It was as if she melted. Claire went from strung tighter than a wire on a cinch to boneless and crying in Bridget’s arms. Stunned, Bridget simply held her friend and let her cry. They were wordless sobs that nonetheless shouted with the intensity of her agony. Tears flowed down Bridget’s cheeks in sympathy for the unknown pain her friend was experiencing.

  Whatever it was, it ran deep.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Claire’s sobs turned to whimpers and finally sniffles and only then did Bridget realise that Victor had joined them and was holding them both.

  She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and he gave a silent shake of his head. Apparently, he had no more idea than she did what was going on.

  ‘Claire, baby?’ She wiped the tears from Claire’s cheeks. ‘Let’s go sit down, sugar.’

  Claire nodded, swiping at her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, guys.’

  ‘No apologies, sweetheart.’ Victor took her hand and led the way to the back, stopping to lock the door to the shop and turn the sign to “closed” on the way. ‘Let’s just get you some water and then you can tell us what’s going on.’

  Victor guided them back to his “showroom” – a small, elegantly appointed space in the back of the store. Sporting a huge, three-way mirror in front of an elevated platform, several comfortable chairs in cream leather, along with a plush sofa in brown suede and a wet bar, it reminded Bridget of a very classy runway. The idea, he’d explained to Bridget the first time she’d been invited back, was that people could use the space privately when they were interested in getting a second opinion on their selections. He also used it for fitting the custom pieces he designed for clients. At least according to Victor, it was a very popular feature of his store.

  They flanked Claire on the sofa as if to protect her from some unknown threat. Victor held one hand; Bridget the other. Neither spoke. They simply waited.

  Claire quietly wept, staring off into the distance with tears streaking her cheeks. She seemed fragile and small. Not at all the dynamic woman she had grown into over the last year.

  ‘I lost the baby.’

  A chill skittered down Bridget’s spine at her words. So simple a sentence and yet such devastating repercussions.

  ‘What happened?’ Bridget choked out the words through her own tears.

  Pulling her hands back, Claire swiped at her cheeks before clenching them into fists in her lap.

  ‘They don’t know.’ Her words reverberated with bitterness. ‘They said sometimes these things “just happen”.’ She stabbed the air as she formed the air quotes.

  ‘Darlin, should you be in bed or something?’ Bridget made to stand, but Claire put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

  ‘No.’ The crack in her voice could have shelled nuts. ‘I couldn’t spend another minute in bed, bleeding and questioning why. I had to get out.’ Her voice wobbled on the last part.

  While Bridget could understand the notion, she was still concerned for her friend’s health. She looked to Victor for support, but he merely shrugged, clearly at a loss. The grief and shock on his face a testament to his care for Claire.

  ‘Claire –’ Bridget squeezed her hand ‘– I’m not sure that shopping is the way to deal with this.’

  Claire snorted. ‘I’m not stupid, Bridg. Evan and I talked all night. I’m sure we’ll talk more. I’ll cry more. I’ll even rage at some point. No –’ she shook her head ‘– this isn’t retail therapy. We’re here for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Bridget was taken aback. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes. You need to get rid of those things you call underwear and embrace your inner sexy. Especially now you and Connor are sleeping together. And –’ she raised an eyebrow at Bridget ‘– don’t give me that look. I’m not off my rocker because of the baby; I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.’ Her voice was watery, but she was less brittle. Bridget, however, was beginning to fall apart.

  ‘You never said anything,’ Bridget snapped.

  ‘I love you, Bridg. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but this seems to go deeper than underwear and I want you to be happy.’

  ‘But Connor is fine. He hasn’t said anything.’

  ‘Nor is he going to, Bridg.’ She smirked. ‘Do you really think he’s going to say, “Bridget, as badly as I want into those panties, they are hideous and deflate my dick when I look at them”?’

  Victor almost choked trying to hold back a laugh and Bridget shot him a warning look.

  Claire continued, ‘No, honey. He’s just going to get you out of them as soon as possible.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with what I wear.’ She barely got the words out as anger, completely out of proportion to the situation, overtook her. ‘Victor, tell her,’ she demanded.

  He blanched at being drawn into their argument, but nevertheless leaned forward, a chagrined look on his face, and said, ‘Claire’s right. You are a beautiful, sexy woman and you hide behind all that boring, ugly cotton.’

  Shock ran through Bridget at his betrayal. She’d always thought he understood. She began to argue, but he held up a hand to stop her. She bit her lip in frustration.

  ‘I tell you what.’ He stood up and smoothed his slacks. ‘Try on what I’ve got put aside for you and if you still don’t want it, so be it. If you love it, then you get a slew of sexy lingerie to drive that man wild. OK?’

  He held out a hand to her. She stared at it as she struggled inside. She knew she was overreacting, but she didn’t want to do it. Period. And she didn’t appreciate them putting her back up against the wall like this.

  This shouldn’t even be an issue. It was none of their damned business in the first place! But what if Connor really was holding back? It’s not as if she’d exactly been flexible. And he really had been going out of his way to accommodate her in so many things. Stirrings of guilt began in her gut.

  ‘Please, Bridg.’ Claire’s face softened and she grabbed Bridget’s hand. ‘I’m honestly not trying to hurt you. But I don’t like seeing what is obviously a scar from what happened. Besides, what harm is there in wearing something to turn Connor on? He’ll appreciate it.’

  Bridget remained rooted in the chair, paralysed with uncertainty.

  ‘Bridget, look at me.’ Claire’s voice was soft, imploring. Bridget turned to face her and teared up at the concern in her face. ‘You helped me more than you could ever know with Evan. I needed a friend as much as I needed him. Let me be the same kind of friend to you now. You may not like what I’m asking, but please, just try.’

  Victor had never moved, his hand still offered. Before she could second-guess herself, she took it.

  It was like looking in a fun house mirror. Her, but not her. Even before the rape, Bridget had never worn anything like this. It was as risqué as they came while still providing complete coverage. Emerald green silk and mesh covered her breasts. It was as much a camisole as a bra, with strategic support for her ample cleavage. The design gave the impression of being transparent, when in reality it was not. A shadow of nipple was apparent, but you couldn’t actually see anything.

  The panties – also the sa
me deceptive material – were some kind of hybrid between boy shorts and a thong. She’d long ago quit following trends in ladies’ underwear and had no idea what the term for them would be, but they were surprisingly comfortable given the fact that they were clearly up her rear end.

  There was more where these came from. Victor had handed her a pile of things to try. There had to be at least 20 sets, in a rainbow of colours.

  Examining herself critically, Bridget tried to relax the muscles in her body that were clenched into knots. The problem definitely wasn’t the fit. They melded to her body as if they’d been made especially for her.

  No, it was that Bridget didn’t recognise the pin-up girl in front of her. The woman in the mirror belonged in the ranks of Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe, and Marlene Dietrich. All of those classic women in satin and lace adored by the masses and tacked on walls around the country. They’d driven a whole generation of men mad with lust.

  The thought made her sick. Literally.

  Beads of sweat bloomed along her skin. She gripped the wall and did her best to breathe through the anxiety clawing up her chest.

  ‘Bridget?’ Victor’s voice reached her through the fog. ‘You coming out to show us?’

  The Earth would change its orbit before she let them see her this way. No way, no how was she walking out there and putting herself on display.

  Pins and needles were spreading across her flesh. She could no longer feel the wall under her palm. She felt lightheaded.

  What was wrong with her? Panic choked her. She couldn’t get the words out to tell Victor to go away.

  The sounds of a key scraping in the lock echoed in the small dressing room and tears streamed down her cheeks at the knowledge that Victor would discover her this way.

  Black dots floated in front of her face and the room began to recede. She was going to pass out.

  ‘Bridget!’ Victor’s deep voice came to her from far away before strong hands gripped her shoulders and she felt herself enveloped in warmth as he sat on the chair in the corner and tucked her into his lap.

  She sobbed into his shoulder. She had no idea why she was responding this way. It was just underwear, for heaven’s sake. But she felt stripped bare and exposed despite being covered in more material than the average bathing suit.

  Victor didn’t say anything, just held her as she cried. Eventually, he began stroking her back and murmuring soothing noises.

  As she wept, the panic receded. The numbness faded. Even her chest unclenched. Eventually, she was able to draw breath and speak.

  ‘This is ridiculous. Could I be more foolish?’ Her words were laced with bitterness.

  ‘Why?’ He seemed genuinely confused by her words.

  ‘I’m sitting here blubbering like an idiot over nothing more than being dressed in sexy underwear.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s what this is about?’ He tipped her chin up and began to wipe the tears from her face.

  ‘What else would it be about?’ She felt exhausted now. As if she could sleep in an instant.

  ‘You’d have to tell me, honey, but I will say this. Whatever is going on, it’s not about the lingerie.’ His brown eyes peered knowingly into hers. ‘It’s about vulnerability. I know you have something traumatic in your past even if I don’t know the specifics. All that grandmotherly cotton you wear, that’s armour.’

  Bridget felt something break open inside her at his words and once more tears flowed. She let them come. She couldn’t have stopped them anyhow. She was just too tired.

  She heard movement behind her and Victor saying something to Claire, who must have come to check on them. He obviously waved her off though, because when Bridget finally lifted her head, they were once again alone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Victor,’ she murmured as she attempted to right his collar which she’d soaked with her weeping.

  ‘Don’t be.’ He grinned rakishly. ‘I’ve fantasised about you in my lap dressed only in lingerie I designed for you.’

  Her shock must have registered on her face because he laughed. It was a deep, masculine laugh that reached all the way to his eyes.

  ‘Look, Bridget.’ He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I know people assume that to be in my line of work, I must be gay, but I design lingerie because I adore women’s bodies and find them sexy as hell. Yours in particular is amazing. I designed all of these just for you and have been waiting for you to be willing to try them on. I’ve even fantasised about being the one to take them off of you.’

  She tensed and started to rise, but he stopped her with his next words.

  ‘Don’t fear me, Bridget. I’m human and you’re a very desirable woman. I may have my fantasies about you, but I won’t act on them. Two damaged people make for disastrous relationships.’

  Her eyes snapped to his and she saw a depth of pain there she could relate to. She relaxed into his lap.

  ‘Damaged?’ She wanted to ask for details. The pain she saw in his eyes was not the kind that came lightly, but she wasn’t up to reciprocating and she’d be opening the door if she did.

  ‘Yes, honey. You’re not the only one.’

  She flinched, but he was right. She was being ridiculously self-centred.

  ‘Ask yourself this … Is he worth a little discomfort and vulnerability? You hide behind your cotton armour and deny your femininity. Is that want you want to do with him?’

  With a soft kiss on her forehead, Victor put her from his lap and left her alone.

  His words zinged through her brain; shining light on shadows she’d long ago stopped paying attention to. When her mind settled down, Bridget began trying on the rest of the items he’d designed for her.

  She took in the stranger in the mirror, wondering if Connor truly was worth exposing herself this way. How could she be certain? Or, better yet, was her self-respect worth it?

  On that thought, Bridget put her own clothes back on. Neatly hung up all the items on their respective hangers and stepped out into the showroom. Claire and Victor were huddled together on the sofa in what appeared to be a very intense discussion. They stopped their whispering at her entrance and looked at her expectantly.

  Walking over to Victor, she handed the entire lot back to him.

  ‘I’ll take them all.’

  Turning, she left the room. She never saw the grins they exchanged and they didn’t see her fear.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘I want you, Connor.’ Warm hands stroked his chest and soft lips nipped at his ear. ‘Now, baby.’

  A shiver of anticipation trilled down his spine and his cock lengthened. Bridget’s body was pressed against his back. Warm, pliant flesh moulded to his and sent his heart racing.

  He’d wanted to hear those words from Bridget. To have her take the lead and drop her guard with him. To do more than allow him to make love to her, but to return the sentiment and let him know he was wanted too. He held his breath, afraid to move, afraid he’d wake up because surely he was dreaming.

  He felt her shift and her hands stroked further down his body. His body flexed, rolling involuntarily as if magnetised by her touch. He lay still, letting her take the lead, enjoying her being the aggressor.

  She gripped his cock, stroking firmly, as if she could draw his essence from him. She just might. The sensations were intense. His balls drew up tight against his body and he fought the urge to give in and spill himself right then.

  Releasing him, she gently pushed against his shoulder until he was lying flat and then straddled him. She wasn’t naked as he’d expected. Instead, she wore the sexiest underwear he’d ever seen. Lace and mesh were used strategically to hint at all her delicious places.

  Her nipples were distended and fighting their lacy bonds. Her sex was covered in lace as well and his cock twitched as he imagined peeling those scraps of material from her body and feasting on the sweetly-scented flesh underneath.

  Thank God she wasn’t wearing those cotton cages she usually did. The aberration played at h
is mind and threatened to take him out of the moment. He fought it. If this was a dream, he’d be damned if he’d wake up now.

  Slowly, she stroked along her sides and up her midriff to cup her breasts. With a single finger, she drew circles around her nipples. Her bottom lip was between her teeth and he couldn’t figure out which he wanted to suck on more.

  He growled low as she pulled first one strap and then the other down her shoulders before giving a little wiggle so all of that succulent flesh spilled out.

  She moved to take the bra off and he stopped her with a hard shake of his head, ‘Leave it on,’ he demanded.

  He’d fantasised about her like this. Wanton and sexy. Naked to a point, so that what little was covered only made what was exposed that much sexier. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she’d finally trusted him this much. Finally, let herself go with him.

  She squeezed her nipples and moaned, arching her body and letting her curls hang in a fiery riot down her back. He desperately needed to be inside her, but he didn’t want to interrupt. Didn’t want to disturb this moment.

  For long, tortuous moments, he watched as she fondled her breasts, cupping and squeezing, tugging and pinching her nipples. His mouth watered with the need to suck on them.

  ‘Stop teasing me, woman,’ he growled, but he couldn’t deny he liked it.

  She chuckled and said in her smoky lilt, ‘What’re you gonna do about it, sugar?’

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’ He could barely get the words out his dick was so hard and aching for her body.

  ‘Or what?’ She reached out, squeezing his nipple almost painfully before soothing it with her tongue.

  She was definitely going to kill him.

  ‘Or I just might turn the tables on you.’ He almost hoped she made him show and prove. He wasn’t disappointed.

  ‘I think you need to put your money where your mouth is, darlin’.’ She smiled at him in invitation.

  He wasted no time flipping her over eliciting a surprised shriek as he pinned her down. Instantly, he tensed, waiting for the reprisal as he realised his mistake, but all she did was grin and wait to see what he’d do next.