Paige POV

The lingerie is black—always black, because I know what it does against my skin, the contrast of it, the way the lace sits at the exact curve of my waist before the satin drops away. The small swell of my belly is barely visible, a softness below the navel that might read as nothing to someone who isn’t looking for it, and I’ve arranged myself on the sofa with the practiced ease of someone who understands how bodies occupy space. My legs are crossed at the ankle, my ...