Living the Dream

by Lyla Payne

  Weariness sinks into my muscles, penetrating all the way to my bones by the time I trek up the stairs to the farthest bedroom from the rest of the house. I’ve had it redecorated, too, so it doesn’t match the rest of the cold, expensive, tasteful decor in the rest of the rooms.

  The door is ajar, which kicks my latent suspicion back into gear. I push it open, registering the dark hardwood floors as opposed to the cream-colored carpet in the hallway and the warm paint color that covered up the beachy greens and tans that adorn the other bedrooms. Everything appears to be in place—neat and in order—except for the figure curled up on my bed.

  Audra’s red hair and creamy skin give her identity away at a glance. Her long eyelashes flutter against her freckled cheeks, red lips parted slightly, telling me she’s been asleep here for a while. The way her jacket flops open, revealing the cleavage spilling out of her top, and the way her skirt hikes up on her thighs, catches my breath in my throat. I don’t know what she’s doing here or why she’s dressed like she’s out to seduce someone, but it stirs heat and lust in my blood so fast and hard that my pants become uncomfortably tight in a heartbeat.

  It takes all my willpower not to climb in beside her, kiss her again the way I did at that stupid party, and see what happens from there. Instead, I take deep breaths in through my nose, blow them out through my mouth, and stare at one of Emilie’s paintings on my wall while forcing images of Margaret Thatcher naked into my head.

  Once my raging hormones are under control I let good sense lead me across the room as opposed to my dick. Tonight opened my eyes in a few different ways, and the last thing I need is to take a misstep with the admittedly gorgeous girl sprawled in my bed. If things go south with this very precarious lie we’re building and she goes screaming and crying to her family, the Kappas and Toby Wright—and anyone else who might have been willing to take a chance on me—will turn their backs.

  Still, I can’t help but brush the hair off her forehead and stare for a moment longer. Toby might be the prize, but the idea of a girl like Audra had been the first step. And Audra—not a girl like her—had been the first one to take a tentative step toward the new me.

  My light touch and stare startle her, the sleepy, sexy look of her coming awake stirring my blood again. I back up a little and hold my briefcase in front of my crotch, hoping if my penis can’t see her he’ll forget about all the things he’d like to do that are not get rid of her as fast as possible.

  Audra sits up and rubs her eyes, glancing around like a girl caught in the library after hours. I’d be lying if I pretended her strange combination of innocence and sex kitten didn’t drive me wild.

  “What are you doing in my room, kitten?” I also like the idea that I’m one of the only people at Whitman who have witnessed the full extent of that sex kitten.

  An unwanted, unexpected surge of possessiveness washes through me. After kissing her the other night and spending the day with her over the weekend, there isn’t a single part of me that wants to go through with putting that video back up for asshole Logan once this is all over. I want to enjoy the image of sexy Audra. Alone. The idea of scumballs and pervs beating off to her pure, naked body makes me feel sick to my stomach.

  In fact, the thought pushes me backward. Away from her and the reminder that even though Logan made those videos, I’m the one who helped put her out there as a self-gratification aid for anyone to use.

  She rubs her eyes, oblivious to my internal loathing. Or how the power of it disturbs me. “I wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t here and I guess I fell asleep.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “The door was unlocked.”

  I shake my head. Neither my half brother nor I are good about things like remembering there are people in the world who might need to steal. Needing things is so far out of our realm of experience. The only time the house is for sure secured, alarm system set, is when our housekeeper leaves three days a week.

  “Oh. Well, I guess I can’t have you arrested, then.” I smile, easing the comment into a joke, and try to relax my grip on the back of the chair by my desk.

  I am not the guy who feels bad for things, no matter how gross they are or who they affect. I am not the guy who cares how my actions affect other people, especially spoiled little girls who are naive enough to trust guys like me. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  She shrugs out of her coat, leaving it on the bed as she stands and stretches. My stomach clenches at the sight of bare skin as it peeks from below her shirt. Sweat pops out on my palms when she doesn’t reply but strides toward me, invading my space with her scent and skin. Then her hand is on the top of my head, toying with my hair, which needs a cut.

  It takes me too long to pull away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m your girlfriend, right? You look stressed, so I thought maybe I could help.”

  “You didn’t know I looked stressed when you came over here.” I get my lust under control enough to look into her face. The eagerness and dusky desire in her bright eyes reaches into my chest and squeezes. I push the chair as far as it will go but my back hits the desk before there’s enough space between the two of us.

  There’s not enough space in this whole house to chill my lust right now.

  “Well, no.” Doubt creeps into her expression and she bites her lower lip.

  It only makes me harder.

  “Why are you here?” The question sounds strangled and the fact that I can’t unclench my teeth doesn’t help. She clamps down on her lip harder but refuses to look away, letting me see her intention plain in her face. I have to look twice because it’s crazy, but after a good two or three minutes of staring, it’s still there.

  She came here, dressed like this, not to seduce someone. She wants to seduce me.

  “Why? You don’t have to do this, Audra. I told you, we’ll make people believe our ruse without compromising your precious integrity this way.”

  The thought of her sleeping with me because she feels like she’s obligated pushes bile into my throat. She reaches out to touch me again but stops at whatever she sees in my face and swallows.

  “I’m not here because of our … deal. I’m here because when you kissed me, I liked it.”

  My gaze narrows and the testosterone-drenched gears in my brain struggle to turn. There’s more to the story, and it takes a couple of good trains of thought to pluck the right one. A smirk twists my lips. “I don’t think it has anything to do with you enjoying a kiss. I think it has to do with you enjoying rebelling against your brothers.”

  Blood floods her cheeks. Innocent, sweet Audra returning to balance the one giving me a massive boner. “Maybe I am. So what? Is it so wrong that I sleep with you if I want to? That it makes me feel in control again?”

  “You don’t have any idea what sleeping with me would make you feel like.” The statement flies out of my mouth before I can check it. And I should have checked it, because it could be interpreted a million different ways and one of them is the actual truth.

  That’s the one I don’t want her to hear.

  Horror softens her emerald eyes and they reach out, determined to burrow underneath my defenses. “Sebastian, I’m not going to feel like … soiled by you or anything.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” The protest is too strong, even to my ears. “I meant that you, little girl, are not prepared for sleeping with me. I’m no sweet frat boy.”

  That makes her return my smirk. “I’m not the naive girl anymore, the one who didn’t ask Logan enough questions. I’m not the girl who got into this situation. I’m the girl who got out of it, and this Audra isn’t stupid enough to believe you didn’t watch at least one of those videos before you took down the link. Probably more.”

  “What’s your point?” I’m practically panting now, the images of her touching herself, of her on her knees between his legs and clearly enjoying it, play like the best porno ever in my mind.

  “My
point is that you’re probably aware that a sweet guy isn’t one of my requirements.” Her lazy gaze travels my body from head to toe, lingering on my poorly hidden boner. “And that I think you liked what you saw.”

  Fog swishes through my mind in an attempt to obscure all rational thought. My healthy sex drive tries to convince my better judgment that a hot-as-hell girl is standing in front of me, totally willing, and refusing her would be stupid. It’s been over two weeks now since I’ve had sex and my body is literally begging me to toss her on that bed and spend the next couple of hours doing my own research on her flexibility.

  Audra bends at the waist, putting her palms on my cheeks and pulling my mouth to hers. Her lips don’t flutter, they aren’t hesitant. They fit against mine and open, her tongue hot and searching as she slips it against mine. It’s all it takes to put any kind of sense out of my head and I’m on my feet, wrapping my hands around her waist.

  We stumble backward, her bare skin hot under my hands until her back slams into the wall and her tits press against my chest. I shove a hand under her flimsy top and slide it up until it cups one of them, a thrill breaking out over my skin at the slick, lacy feel of her bra.

  She groans into my mouth as my fingers brush her nipple. It responds fast, a hard little nub that begs to be between my lips. I rip her top over her head, pausing for a moment to take in the milky perfection of her skin—the swell of her tits, bigger than I expect, as they struggle to break free from the see-through black constraint.

  And that’s the moment my conscience decides to return from its decade-long exile. I close my eyes and take three deep breaths, then shove her shirt at her.

  Goddammit to hell.

  Confusion and lust muddle in her gaze and it’s several moments before she reaches up dumbly, closing her fingers around the balled-up tank top. “What are you doing?”

  It almost makes me laugh, how many times we’ve exchanged that question in the past ten minutes. It’s impossible to laugh with a dick that feels like it’s about to rip free of its skin, though, so I glare at her instead. The excuse on the tip of my tongue is You’re not this kind of girl—the kind of girl who sleeps with me.

  But saying that makes me the same kind of unintentional, well-meaning misogynist her brothers are, and it’s not fair. Which normally wouldn’t bother me, but for some reason, staring into her beautiful, confused, blushed face makes me want to be unlike the other people in her life.

  Something new. Someone who can show her new things, a new path. Possibilities.

  Someone who tells her she can be whoever the fuck she wants. Whatever kind of girl she wants to be and it’s nobody’s goddamn business.

  The desire scares me more than the one begging me to get out from under the life that’s buried me these past five years. Made me complacent. Fucking Audra right now isn’t going to give me anything except instant gratification.

  So, I don’t tell her the truth. I lie.

  “I’m not interested.”

  Her jaw drops, but to her credit, she manages to not stare at my crotch, which trumps my statement. Her cheeks get redder and redder, like apples, as she yanks her shirt back over her head. Audra licks her lips as though she’s about to say something, then closes them, then repeats at least half a dozen times as she scours the room for her shoes and bag.

  I can’t rock the boat after things are moving in the right direction with Toby. Can’t do anything that’s going to push Audra into deciding that dealing with the fallout from the videos is better than dealing with me, and if I know anything about human beings it’s that sex is the fastest way to complicate a business deal.

  She never finds any words before she races out my door. I don’t follow her. The monitors in my closet show the moment her silver Audi pulls onto the street, tires squealing. Embarrassment I can deal with. It won’t make her back out of our deal and she’ll get over it faster than having sex with me and regretting it.

  I’m still staring at the wall fifteen minutes later when my phone rings and Logan’s number displays on the caller ID. Bile coats the back of my throat but I punch the button to answer, determined to get this fucker off my back once and for all.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m downstairs. When are you going to start locking your door? There are a lot of assholes out there.”

  “I’m aware.” I grit my teeth, the kind of blinding rage that makes me do things I usually regret burning red behind my eyes. “I’m not in the mood, Logan.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t care. I’m done with letting you avoid me.”

  I hang up on him without answering and think about locking the door to my room until he goes away just to prove a point. I don’t want him in my house without supervision, though, and by the time I straighten myself out and get down the stairs, my blood is boiling. Breathing techniques and squeezing my hands into fists stops me from taking a swing at his hard jaw.

  Logan’s pacing in the foyer, in front of the same bench where I tried one last time to stop Emilie from stealing Quinn—and all of the income he brought in. Audra’s ex is the opposite of me, at least in looks—chestnut hair that he keeps cropped too close to his head, light eyes. He’s wearing torn jeans that drag on the floor behind his flip-flops and a T-shirt that looks like it has permanent pit stains. Disgusting.

  I don’t understand why people can’t take a few minutes to make sure they’re presentable.

  He notices me at the foot of the stairs and stops, pinning me with a glare. “Sebastian, what in the fuck? Have you gone retarded? Why is that site not up? I’ve got bills to pay.”

  Right. Bills to pay, because being the only son of one of the most powerful defense attorneys in the country doesn’t pay well enough. Logan might be low on the income totem pole at Whitman but as far as the rest of the world is concerned he’s got more than his fair share.

  The image of Audra pushed up against my wall, breathing hard and trusting me, expands like a ball of fire in my chest. Greedy asshole.

  The urge to punch him rises up again, but violence really isn’t my forte. He must have forgotten who he’s dealing with, ordering me around. I don’t fucking think so.

  I grind my teeth together. “I told you, I’m working on it. I’d be working faster if you would leave me to it.”

  “I’m hearing rumors, Sebastian. That you and my porn star ex-girlfriend have taken up together.” He saunters toward me like he’s headed toward the back of the house, maybe sniffing out the bar, but stops at the look on my face. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with the disappearing video, would it? I mean, she has a sweet little pussy, I’ll grant you that, but it’s not worth giving up the money. I promise.”

  The fire ball liquefies, spreading through my chest, dripping into my blood like molten gold. I’ve spent the majority of my life suppressing impressive amounts of rage, but this is harder. It’s hotter. I want to smash his face into his skull.

  I’m not sure if it’s because he’s suggesting I can’t handle myself or because he’s insulting Audra, a girl who, for all of her faults, didn’t choose to be a part of this game.

  He backs away slowly as I take a step toward him, rage crackling through me like electricity. It’s in the air, he’s breathing it, and all of a sudden Logan’s properly afraid. I don’t like that he felt he had the right to come here, and he needs to realize that.

  “It’s none of your business how I conduct my personal life. You must know I have my reasons.”

  He snorts. “Yeah. Reasons. Just fucking fix it.” The expression on his face shifts—still fearful, more determined. “If you don’t, there’s always the originals of those files. I’m sure you don’t think I’m stupid enough to not keep those.”

  This twerp is threatening me. Threatening my fake girlfriend and the plan I’ve managed to cobble together and he’s worth less than the scraper in my car that I use to get rid of shit on the bottom of my shoes.

  But he’s got those videos and if I don’t at least play along, all this c
ould blow up in my face.

  I breathe slowly out of my nose. The same feeling from earlier tonight, the overwhelming desire to not let anyone else see those videos, to keep Audra’s banging body for my own mind’s eye. A twitch finds my cheek.

  “I don’t think you remember just who you’re dealing with here, Logan. I said we’ll get the site fixed. We’ll get the site fixed.” He backs up farther as I take a couple more steps toward the front door, flinching when I brush past him. “Now get the fuck out of my house, and stay the hell away from me. And Audra Stuart.”

  He hustles out, giving me as wide a berth as possible, looking like he’s rethinking his decision to come here tonight. As much as I want to believe it’s my reputation keeping him quiet, there’s too much at stake to rely on that being enough.

  Chapter Twelve

  Audra

  My face still burns when I pull into the parking lot at the Kappa house twenty minutes later. Tears dry on my cheeks, making them feel too tight and cold. Itchy. Discomfort builds in my belly until it’s uncomfortable, lurching with anger each time the image of me throwing myself at Sebastian plays in my mind.

  He rejected me. Sebastian Blair, who sleeps with pretty much any hot piece of ass that wiggles in front of him, sent me packing, and it’s embarrassing as hell.

  Layered under the humiliation is anger, but under that is a curiosity that stings at least as much as the rejection.

  I’m no virgin. I’m not an idiot, either. Sebastian’s excuse of not being interested is total bullshit—the minutes of making out that went down before he pulled away were some of the hottest in my life, and the way he pressed against me, exploring my body as though his fingers couldn’t touch everything fast enough promises he felt the same way.

  Yet he stopped. I’ve got enough self-confidence to know it’s not because of a lack of interest, so there must be another reason. A real one.

  I nudge open the door to our room and startle Blair awake. She flies to a sitting position, clutching her chest and causing the book she’d been reading to crash off the edge of the bed.