He was bad for her. By all accounts and purposes Freya shouldn’t be doing what she was doing at the moment. Which was shimmying on the black, sequined dress with the thin straps and the high slit. Her red hair bounced on her skin curled to near perfection.
Waiting for him to dig his hands into it and pull it sharply while he searched her eyes.

Fuck. He was trouble. The bad kind of trouble the kind that left her sizzling for days and her heart on the floor trampled upon. But he had called her. Pleading to see her one last time.

“Where the hell are you going?” A familiar voice intruded into her thoughts.

Freya froze for two seconds, looked over her shoulder at her best friend and just shrugged quickly resuming her task of wearing her pointy heels.

Heels he would take off with his teeth tonight. Her body internally shivered at the thought but outwardly she was cool as a cucumber.
“Out. With some friends,” she lied smoothly.
After her heels were in place she stood and walked to the mirror on her dresser to make sure she looked good. Her makeup was dark and bold, her skin perfumed with the lilting scent of liliacs.

“Which friends?” came the question behind her, suspicious.

Freya didn’t turn around. Her best friend could tell...