She pours her purse out into the sink. “I can fix my makeup, and that means I can fix your eye, but I won’t until you tell me what happened. Did my brother do this? Was this Anthony?”
I sigh, and stride to the door, locking it to make sure no one gets in. “Does it matter? It’s over. There’s nothing that can be done.”
She unscrews a white lipstick. At least, I think it’s lipstick. “Please, tell me what happened.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at him.” I make my way over to her, wondering what the hell she is going to do with white lipstick.
“So, it was him?” She glances up toward the light, blinking fast to try not to cry. “I refuse to let a tear fall for that asshole.”
“He only cares about you. He thinks he’s looking out for you.”
She dabs the lipstick on around my eye, putting a good amount on. Next, she takes a baby-sized looking sponge and dampens it before pressing it around my eye. I have no idea what is going on, but I let her take the ropes.
“Looking out for me? He has done nothing but control me and shelter me my entire life.”
“I told him that, too. Granted, when he started getting in my face, I might have egged him on a bit.”
She smirks, lightly tapping the sponge-thing around my eye. “Of course you did. Now, please tell me what happened?”
I throw my hands in my pockets as Whitley works her magic. “We met up at our usual place—the bar at the golf course. We caught up for a minute, and he told me how well he was doing in med school. After all that was done, we sat in comfortable silence and I asked him why he never told me he had a sister. His entire demeanor changed. The nice, friendly guy turned into someone I’d never seen before. He put down his mug so hard it cracked, spilling beer everywhere, and he asked how I knew about you. I said we ran into each other at Tops’. I didn’t tell him the truth about you being a criminal and all.”
She takes that moment to press the sponge a little harder around my eye, making me wince, but it was worth it. It’s so fun teasing her. “Anyway, I told him I asked you out on a date, and he snorted, saying that you said no because of how much you hate what I’m about.” I swallow down the truth of that before I keep going. “Then I told him that you said yes, and he freaked out. He started spouting about how I’m not good enough for you, and that you deserve better than a guy like me who would stick his dick in anything.”
This time she winces, pausing her makeup skills. “Hey. That isn’t true. I don’t do that at all. He just said those things to get under my skin. Sure, I’ve had sex with plenty of women, but more often than not it’s just empty rumors. I don’t mind, though. I don’t want anyone knowing my real personal life.”
“I’m glad we agree on something. Wait, are you hiding your personal life from me?” she drops the sponge back in her purse and gets some dark brown stuff and a small brush in her hand.
I shake my head. “You’re the only one I don’t want to do that with. I want to share it with you.”
“Oh.” She bites her lip, dabbing the brush in the brown stuff.
“Yeah, oh. Wait, is that going on my face? What is that?”
“Bronzer. The concealer is too pale for you.”
Whatever that means. I place my hands on her hips and continue talking. “I stuck up for you. I told Anthony that it bothers you that he's kept away from his friends, like a secret he didn't want anyone to know about. That you kind of resent him for it, and that you were a grown woman, capable of making your own decisions. And if you decide to be with me, then that’s your decision. He didn’t take it too well.”
“Apparently not.”
“He asked how long we’ve been seeing each other, and I said a few weeks. I told him that if I knew you were his sister earlier, I would have spoken to him earlier about it. How was I supposed to know? I had no idea what you looked like. Not that it would matter if I knew you guys were related. It wouldn’t have mattered. I spoke to him out of respect. I didn’t have to do that, but since I consider him one of my friends,” I shrug. “Well, I felt like I had to. He said you were too blind to know what you wanted. That you live in a fantasy world where everything can be saved, and I lost it.”
The brush tickles my face as she puts the bronzer on. “What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t let him sit there and disrespect you like that. That would be like you telling him he can’t believe in saving lives or something. So, I stood and got in his face. I said something along the lines of not talking about you like that in front of me. I hated it. I hated how he talked about you as if what you want in life is so underneath him. I pushed him, so I started it. I reminded him how you’re not only beautiful, but smart, driven, caring, and compassionate. I told him that he probably didn’t know that you’re taking the semester off school to help Tops, and he rolled his eyes at that. He said you were always putting people above yourself, and that’s why you wouldn’t ever go anywhere.”
Her breath hitches and I know she lost the fight against her tears. “I told him that because you care about people, you could go anywhere you want in life if you follow your dreams. Your heart,” I start to say, putting my hand against her chest, “is big. I can’t believe there’s enough room for me in it. He was so callous about you, and I lost so much respect for him. I said that if he couldn’t see how wonderful you are as a person, then I didn’t want to be friends with him. And boom.” I make a fist and pretend-punch myself in the face to show that he hit me.
“You mean that?”
“What?”
“That I can go anywhere and do anything if I follow my dreams.”
I place my hand on her hips, taking the brush out of her hand and place it in the sink. “I think you don’t know what your dream is anymore, but you're figuring it out. I think you love saving things. Whether it’s people, animals, or the environment, your heart is big enough to hold all of it. Hell, I think that’s pretty amazing. A lot of people would dream to have the capability to hold so much love for so many things.”
“You hold love for so many things.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I hold love for one thing. It’s all I’m capable of doing.” I don’t say the words, but I hope she catches on. “I need you, Cherry.”
She nods, wrapping her arms around my neck as I pick her up and place her ass on the sink. I yank a condom out of my pocket and rip the foil open, remembering that to even put the condom on, my cock needs to be out.
“Take my dick out. This is going to be fast and hard.”
She fumbles with my belt for a few moments, but soon enough, she gets my pants undone and unzipped. My pants fall to my knees, and she pulls my briefs down enough for my cock to bob out. I roll the condom on, fight through my way through all that damn tulle, push her wet panties aside, and thrust in.
Both of us moan when we are connected. Nothing feels better than feeling her walls tighten around my cock. I pick her up by the ass and push her back against the stall, gripping her tightly as I fuck her wet cunt. She moans, but I put my hand over her mouth.
“Be a good girl and don’t get us caught,” I whisper.
Whitley squeezes her eyes shut and bites my hand to try to control her noises. I grunt under my breath, barely controlling my own as I jackhammer inside her, trying to get us both off in a record amount of time. Remembering how fast she came when I hit her from the back, I spin her around, grip her tightly by the shoulders, and drive back inside.
Her head is turned to the right, and I twist to see what she is looking at. She’s watching me fuck her through the mirror. The sight sends a surge of pleasure through me.
“You like watching us, Cherry?”
“Mmhmm,” she gasps. “You look so hot.”
I lean forward, pulling her to my chest, so my lips are close to her ear. Our heavy breaths are loud in this bathroom, and the sound of her ass clapping against my cock adds to the symphony. “Come for me, Cherry. Come all over my cock.”
I know she’s good at
listening, but I didn’t know she’s that good. On cue, her tight pussy clamps around me, and her mouth opens on a moan. I cover her lips with my own, grabbing a handful of breasts as I shove my tongue down her throat, grunting and filling the condom with my own come.
Both of us pant, enjoying the afterglow until a loud bang hits the door. “Are you guys done? I need to pee.” Charlie whines from the other side.
Whitley laughs, and I hold on to the condom as I pull out. I toss it in the trashcan, pull up my pants, and tuck myself back in. She is doing the same, making sure her tulle is in place and adjusting her hair and makeup before I open the door. But before I do, I take one last look in the mirror, and my eye is brand new.
“Wow, not bad at all.”
“The sex or the makeup?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that.” I kiss her forehead and place my hand on her lower back, guiding her out the door. My lips tease the shell of her ear. “I want you again.”
Her cheeks blush, and she glances at her feet before whispering back. “Next time, I want you to whip the condom off and come all over my tits.” She spins and runs down the hallway, leaving me with my jaw on the floor.
Whitley isn’t the kind of woman to speak like that, so she must have been having this fantasy for a while now. One, of course, I’m more than happy to fulfill.
Whitley
Fury.
That is the only emotion I can feel right now. The amazing, hot, steamy bathroom sex helped, but it can’t take my mind off the fact that my brother said those things to Logan, and then ended up punching him in the face. That isn’t the Anthony I know, but I’m starting to wonder if I knew him at all.
“Hey.”
Logan grabs my arm, spinning me around until my hands lay against his chest.
“Hey,” I reply. The noise behind the doors to the fundraiser pounds. The heel of my shoes sends the tremors up to the sole of my foot, tickling my feet slightly.
“Don’t let him ruin our night.”
I lift my head up, seeing the glow of the light shine off his hair. It’s perfect. It’s parted on the side, slicked down. Not a hair is out of place. His strong jaw is smooth, but a small five o’clock shadow is starting to form on his chin and around his mouth, and the urge to feel the rough scratch of his stubble between my legs, running over my thighs, sends a shiver down my spine. I want to experience that.
“He isn’t. I’m just so angry. I mean—your face.” I trail my fingers over the swollen area of his eye, hating that my brother did this.
“It’s pretty, right?” he smirks, blowing me a kiss.
I roll my eyes, pushing him in the chest. “Please. It’s okay.”
“You were thinking more than okay in the bathroom a few minutes ago, remember?”
My skin awakens from the sultry lust emanating from his lips. “Maybe.”
“Do you need a reminder?”
I gulp, leaning back as he bends forward, feathering his lips over mine. Neither of us says a word, but it’s not needed. Electricity zaps between our lips, tingling the flesh. The tip of my tongue peaks out, and the static flutters over my taste buds.
“Answer me.”
My head nods, I think. I can barely form two words when he’s so close.
“Words, Cherry.” His hand lays on my lower back, and his fingers wiggle underneath the material of my dress, drifting over the top of my right ass cheek.
“Yes.”
He tilts his head, pinching his lips closer. “Too bad. You’re going to have to wait.” Logan brushes his nose against mine and takes my hand, dragging me into the main room, while I remain in a haze.
“Wow,” I whisper, following him blindly as he drags me through the crowd and to his private table. The room is extravagant, to say the least. It’s huge, and a ton of people are here in big dresses and exorbitant suits. Light pink sheer curtains hang like a canopy in the middle of the ceiling, sparkling with glitter woven in the material. A jazz band plays in the corner, setting a romantic tone. Glasses clink and people chatter. The sounds are of money that is about to be spent. The conservations are loud, but I can’t hear an exact conversation with how it all blends to imitate a swarm of bees. Little hearts are hanging from the curtain, and on each heart, a name is written. I wonder if those are the names of the cancer patients.
As we are making our way through the crowd, I pass a caterer who has champagne flutes on a silver platter as he walks around in his white tuxedo.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I giggle, grabbing one with my free hand and smiling. The champagne is bubbly and fresh, and a little sweet and dry, coating my parched throat. The stress from earlier dissipates, and I try to move my feet to the sound of the upbeat tempo the trumpet is playing.
As we finally come to the table, sitting there, looking beautiful, is Charlie. She and my brother Kyle are leaning in close, talking and laughing. The way he is looking at her is precious, like she is the only person on earth he has eyes for. I hope they both realize it’s okay to be together, because they deserve to have the love they feel.
“Hi, guys!”
“Hey! Whoa, right? This is amazing! I can’t believe he let us come to this. What a great charity.”
“He founded it himself,” I beam with pride, taking a sip of the bubbles.
“Please, it’s not that big of a deal,” he plays off, tugging on the lapels of his suit. I’ve noticed he does that when he gets nervous or if the attention is on him.
Charlie deadpans him. “It is a big deal. Look at all these little paper hearts hanging above us. Those are families you have helped. You should be proud, Logan.”
“I see someone has done their research, then.”
“I grabbed a brochure on the way in. It’s pretty informative.”
Kyle stares at Charlie like she hung the damn moon. “You always want to know more about things, babe.”
Babe. My heart! Charlie thinks he says babe to all the girls he’s friends with, but he doesn’t. It’s only for her.
“It’s important to know things.” She stands when she sees another caterer. “Anyone want champagne?”
“You sit. I’ll get it.” Kyle says, kissing the top of her head before turning to Logan and patting his shoulder. “It’s a good gig, my dude. Freakin’ rockin’, man.”
I have to hold in a laugh as his surfer tone comes out. He leaves, walking over to grab a few flutes of champagne. When I peek over at Charlie, she looks buzzed, like she got a contact high just from being around him.
“He is such a surfer guy,” Logan says, stealing a sip of my drink. “It’s endearing. And different.”
“Isn’t it?” Charlie says, holding her head up with her hand as she leans her elbow on the table. She practically has hearts fluttering in her eyes.
“You’re in deep,” I whisper.
“So are you! Don’t give me that.”
Logan peeps in. “Yeah, Whitley. Don’t give her that. We all know how much you want this bod,” he jokes.
“Please, you’re so yesterday,” I kid, analyzing the perfection of my manicure.
His hand travels up my legs, stopping at the edge of the tulle skirt. “That’s not what you were saying just a few minutes ago.”
Right when I’m about to open my mouth, Kyle comes back carrying four flutes, setting them all down. He grimaces when one of the flutes moves and tilts, almost spilling as he sits with precision and slow speed. When he sets them on the red silk cloth, we clap and cheer. He wipes a fake bead of sweat off his brow, flicking it away. “Whew. Close one, right?”
The lights dim and the dark-haired man from the diner, the very first day I met Logan, strolls on stage. “Hey, I know him.”
Logan nods. “That’s Brandon, the man who was with me the day you first gave me a taste of your sass.”
“Oh, I see. He was so nice. I wonder why I’m not with him,” I tease, hiding my face in the champagne.
Logan growls in my ear, and the glass in my hand shakes and liqu
id sloshes over the rim, splashing on my hand from the vibrations of his deep tenor.
“You better watch it, Cherry,” he winks.
Brandon taps the mic, and everyone finds their seats. The buzzing of bees finally quiets, becoming low murmurs as people give their attention to Brandon.
“Hi, everyone! I hope you all have had a fantastic evening so far. We have tons of champagne, and tons of money to donate tonight! So, let’s give a big round of applause for the man who put it all together. Everyone, please welcome Logan Stone!”
The entire crowd roars like he is a big celebrity. In a way, I guess he is. He stands, and the spotlight lands on him. He holds his tie down and waves, but before he goes on stage, he grabs my hand and drags me with him.
“Logan! What are you doing? No.” I try to jerk my hand from his hold, but he tightens it, and I follow him behind the podium. I never do well in crowds. He better not have me speak, because I might vomit.
Really. The urge is there.
“Good evening, everybody! Thank you for coming to the sixth annual Sweetheart Valentine’s Ball. Wow, six years. Really?” He twists his head to Brandon who gives him a thumbs up. The crowd laughs.
“Six years of changing lives. I never imagined that it would go this far. When I started this, I never imagined it lasting this long. I hope that it’s something that forever continues, because those families who struggle to pay for medical bills need us. We are capable of helping without breaking our banks. So, it means a lot to me that you all are here. I’d like to take a moment for everyone to grab a rose from the center of the table and peel back the petals until you see a name. That’s the name of the patient you will be helping for the year, or more if you want, but that’s up to you. Usually, this is only for children with cancer, but this year, I’ve also included older adults and their families that are struggling. Some of you will find the names of two families on a rose, and that’s why. You might be thinking, ‘Wow, Logan. Two? That’s too much.’ And if you think that, you can leave, and I’ll cover the cost, because it isn’t too much. We aren’t here to be greedy with our millions of dollars. We’re here to help those who need it most.”
The Hangover Page 17
