The experience was oddly titillating. She shook hands and posed for photographs, all the while remembering the way he’d bent her over the sales counter and made her beg. Her pulse rushed just thinking about it. “What are you smiling at?” Mom snapped her fingers in Joy’s face. “The podium is over there.” She turned a critical gaze to Joy’s outfit and began brushing the lapels of her blouse. “And why are you all wrinkled?” Because an hour ago, my boyfriend was sucking ice cream off my nipples. “Must’ve happened in the car.” “You missed a button.” Mom fastened the gap while shaking her head in exasperation. “Honestly, princess, you’re a mess lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were—” She cut off with a gasp, her wide gaze fixed on the base of Joy’s neck. “Oh, my God.” Joy touched her throat, probing for the source of the problem.
