“Damn,” Aly says. “I guess it’s just as well I’m giving them to you. You look so much better than I ever did. No—” she says, before I can protest. “It’s an empirical fact. You have an ass, and my butt is as flat as a pancake. You, my friend, own those pants. All I could manage was to wear them.”

I don’t say it out loud, but I have to admit she’s right. Not about how Aly looked in them—I never saw her—but about the fact that they look damn good on me. More than that, I genuinely like them. The weight of the leather. The tactile sensation of the material against my skin. I feel sexy and powerful, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s a good thing. Because I started this day feeling confused and out of sorts.

And not entirely because of my stalker.

With a frown, I push thoughts of Riley from my head. I’d spent the night tossing and turning as he’d invaded my Firehouse-filled dreams, inserting himself into the situations and scenes I’d witnessed during the research tour of the place. I’d awakened just seconds before a massive orgasm ripped over me, my skin hot, my nipples tight, and my inner thighs slick with desire.

It wasn’t the first time Riley had invaded my fantasies over the years, but it had definitely been the most intense, and the most frustrating. And not just because I know damn well that nothing is going to develop between us outside of my dreams, but also because I woke without any memory of what he’d done to get me in such a state.

So, yeah, I felt a little cheated.

“Quit admiring your excellent ass and put on the top,” Aly says.

“What?” Her words startle me out of my thoughts and I realize that I’m still wearing my M. Sterious cast and crew tank top. “Oh, sorry.” I tug it over my head, then unlatch the front hook of my bra and let it fall behind me.

“Now I feel better about my ass,” Aly says. “At least I have tits.”

“Hey, I brought you breakfast tacos. You’re not allowed to be mean to me.”

“Just soothing my bruised ego,” she says. “You look hot.” She broke off to look me over from head to toe. “Well, half-naked and hot. And I look like a beached whale.”

“You look amazing,” I say sincerely as I grab the corset and connect the two halves of the zipper. “You’re glowing.”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see she looks pleased. “That’s what Ben always says, but I figured he was just blowing smoke up my ass.”

“Totally true,” I tell her, then glance down at my chest. “This can’t be right.” The leather just sort of hangs on me, not nearly as flattering as I’d hoped.