by Payne, Lyla
“I think it’s in both of our best interests to part ways, as business partners.”
Relief so potent that it brought tears to my eyes flooded my blood and lifted my heart until it floated, weightless and pounding, in my ears. It gave me the courage to keep pushing.
“There are two more things.”
My dad tensed. “Don’t make me regret my generosity, Pear.”
“Don’t forget I’m your daughter.”
“Go on.”
“I want a million dollars. I’ve earned at least that much, and it will get me through the last two years at Whitman and give me some breathing room afterward.” I could have asked for more. Probably should have asked for more, but it was dirty money. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I was prepared to live the way Sam and I had on our trip, but I didn’t want to be greedy.
“And the second thing?”
“Give Sam’s money back. All of it.”
“I’m inclined to negotiate the second request.”
Despite the hard edge in his voice, I steeled my nerve. “I’m not negotiating. Those are my requirements.”
“I find it insulting that you’re not concerned about whether or not I’ll let you leave this island at all, never mind give in to your demands.”
“Dad, you’re tough, and you’re a criminal, but you’re not violent. We both know it.”
Another seemingly endless pause preceded his acquiescence in the form of a tight nod. “Fine. One million dollars to your account, and thirty-two million returned to Mr. Bradford. I’ll make the arrangements right now.”
To my surprise, he did. It took four phone calls to four different banks, but less than ten minutes altogether to move the money. I checked my spending account and verified the pending funds, then used my phone to log into Sam’s accounts with the passwords my dad had given me at the outset of this ill-fated venture.
Well, ill-fated in my dad’s view. Never mine, even with the pain.
The money was pending there, too.
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll go.”
“Please stay for lunch, Pear. You can have a quick nap, a shower, fresh clothes. I would like to hear more about school, and about Sam, before you go. There’s no telling when we’ll see each other again.” He paused, smiling a real smile this time. “I suppose I’m a little proud, that you’ve grown into such a strong woman, even if it is inconvenient for me.”
I had a strange, sad feeling that, now that he no longer needed me, I might never see my father again. That it made me sorry was a surprise, though I didn’t know why. He was my dad. As much as I wanted to get back to my life, having one last meal together wouldn’t hurt.
“That sounds nice.”
*
The sight of Whitman’s campus squeezed my heart with pleasure—it’s faux brick and manicured lawns, the kids laughing between finals, the tickle of anticipation in the air. I’d made it back in time to take the two finals that my professors demanded be completed in person, which meant that if Sam didn’t rat me out, I could come back next semester in good standing even after missing the last three weeks of class.
There had been another text from Kennedy waiting on my phone asking me to please call her as soon as I could, but nothing that suggested everyone knew of my moonlighting career as a con artist.
The state of my room unsettled me, since it appeared Audra hadn’t been there for some time; there were no sheets on her bed and her toiletries were gone from the sink. The cold, abandoned feeling on Audra’s side of the room worried me more than the idea of being ostracized, and I called Kennedy. No answer. I tried Cole, too, just in case, but got the same nonresponse.
The fact that no one answered made my nerves twitch, but they would return my message.
My two finals weren’t until Friday—two days away—but I did need to go to the library to finish one last project. When I dumped out my backpack, intent on repacking it with marketing textbooks, the envelope Sam’s lawyer had given me fluttered down onto my bed.
My stomach clenched and my fingers shook as I picked it up. This was my new life. Starting over had to be done, and leaving this letter unopened would chain me to the past. The seal broke under my fingernail and I held my breath through the two quick sentences.
Devil Girl,
Even though sex with you was the best thing ever, I considered us friends first. You may not know this, since friendship is more of a concept for you than an experience, but friendships don’t end after a fight—or even a slight (hey, I’m a poet and didn’t know it!).
Keep in touch.
Sam
Hope, too fragile to look directly at, rose inside me until tears bubbled down my cheeks. I wanted more than friendship from Sam—I wanted everything from Sam—but having him in my life in any small way was better than nothing. It was almost too much to think possible, and a hesitant smile found my lips on my way to the library.
I had a new life, and I was determined to make it amazing, all on my own.
Epilogue
Sam
My first Aussie Open match started in less than half an hour, but my mind couldn’t have been further from analyzing my opponent, warming up, focusing, or anything else I should have been doing. All I wanted to know was whether Blair’s face would be in my box when I stepped out onto the court for the first time in months.
Even after I’d written the note letting Blair know that, despite my anger, we were still friends, even after I’d woken up with all thirty-plus million dollars back where it belonged, it had taken my pride a week or so to cool enough to realize I was being an idiot. Not because I felt angry or betrayed, but because I assumed we couldn’t get past it. Start over. Blair had shown me, from the moment she realized I knew the truth, that she meant what she said about a new life. I wanted one, too.
It would kill me if I were too late, if she’d decided she didn’t want a dumbass guy who held on to grudges and ego instead of her beautiful, brilliant, maddening face. Because no matter how epically bad this whole thing began, I knew in my gut that the kind of innate connection the two of us had might never come around again.
Marija had even said as much when I’d told her the entire sob story a few weeks ago. I’d been surprised to hear her support Blair, given that they hadn’t exactly been cozy in Belgrade, but she seemed certain that she’d never met anyone else who got under my skin enough to make me so mad … or so happy.
One of the tournament employees came to get me, listening to his walkie-talkie as he led me down a tunnel. I stopped briefly to say a few words to the media about the upcoming match, a ritual I hated, then stood just out of sight behind my French opponent. The announcer called his name first, then waited for the crowd to clap politely before announcing me. I received a bigger round of applause but hardly heard it. My heart was in my throat as the crowd came into view, my eyes whipping to the players’ boxes.
She was there. Blair stood in the front row, in between Leo and one of my trainers, a hesitant smile—a real one—on her beautiful face.
I forgot about the match. Forgot about protocol, expectations, warm-ups, and the fact that cameras feeding live to half the world were trained on me. I dropped my bags and broke into a jog, making it across the side of the court in a flash, then threw my arms around Blair and hauled her over the barrier. I heard the rustle of security, someone vaguely asking me to leave the spectators in their seats, but nothing could distract me from how she felt against my chest.
The smell of her—fresh and clean, familiar but exciting, filled my nose and I let her go long enough to look down into her face, beaming and flushed.
“You’re making a scene,” she whispered, peering over my shoulder at what had to be a crowd of people and cameras.
“I don’t fucking care,” I growled, lifting her up so I could press my lips against hers.
Tasting her after all that time was heaven. Her lips parted for me, inviting my tongue to tangle with hers, and her fingers found the hair at the back of my neck
. My body responded, pressing into hers, desperate for something I couldn’t have right then. When we broke apart, struggling for breath, the look on Leo’s face said he knew I was considering forfeiting the match to get laid, and that he would kill me if I did.
It made me chuckle. “Don’t worry, Leo. I’m not going to do it.”
I lifted Blair back over the railing, setting her in her seat and leaning in to sweep my tongue over hers for one last taste. “Thank you for coming.”
“Oh, I’m not coming. I’m just breathing hard.”
I laughed at the unexpected joke. “Wait until later.”
“I believe you,” she replied, her dark eyes searching mine.
“I believe you, too.”
*
I woke up the next morning a little more sore than I should have been, and not from the first-round win I had under my belt. Blair’s soft, warm body was curled up against me, our skin damp where it touched. I ran a hand from her shoulder down to her hip, cupping her bare ass to pull her closer. She shifted in her sleep, burying her nose in my neck and whispering something incoherent. The movement of her lips against my pulse jumped my body to attention, even though I’d lost count of how many times we’d done it since yesterday afternoon.
Four, I thought. Maybe five.
Even so, my fingers walked toward her breast until they landed on the spot that I’d learned gave me the quickest route to waking her up ready to go. Her nipples tightened between my fingers and her hips moved against mine, a moan escaping her as she shook off sleep and ran her tongue along my neck, up to my ear.
I pulled her on top of me, then joined her groan as she guided me inside and sat down, rolling her hips across mine. She moved slowly, her breasts brushing my chest in a maddeningly soft movement, teeth nibbling my lips, tongue pressing against mine until her breathing quickened.
“Sam,” she gasped, moving faster, the sheet on either side of my shoulders balled up in her fists.
“Yes, devil girl. Come on,” I encouraged, enthralled by the desperate pleasure twisted on her features as she sat up, riding me until she came with a cry. It seemed as though it lasted forever while I lost myself in the feeling of her tight around me, until we were both soaked with her pleasure.
She collapsed on top of me, breathing hard, her lips forming a smile against my chest. “Okay. I’m dead now. Are you happy?” she mumbled.
“You don’t feel dead.”
I thrust into her hard enough to earn another gasp, to get her moving, then flipped us both over and buried myself between her thighs.
“Christ, Sam. You feel so good.” A sly smile replaced her passion. “You’re the best friend I ever had.”
“Since I’m the one teaching you about friendship, let me tell you something—you do not let all of your friends fuck you. Got it?”
“Audra’s going to be very disappointed.”
“Now, that might actually—”
“Do not finish that sentence.” She hooked her elbows under her knees until I fell deeper. “You’re welcome to finish something else, though.”
She laughed at my inability to reply to her challenge through clenched teeth, but our mirth dissolved as we slipped against each other with more intensity until I couldn’t see anything but the way her brown hair tumbled over her breasts, until I couldn’t feel anything but her heat wrapped around me, her hands holding on to my ass to pull me in harder and faster. Until she came again and I couldn’t hold out, our tongues dancing while we gasped pleasure into each other’s mouths and everything was slick with sweat and happiness.
“That’s what I call a finish…” She panted underneath me, fingers toying with my hair.
I propped myself up on an elbow, touching her because I could. It would be a long time, probably, before it got old. If it ever did. “I’m never going to be finished with you. You realize that.”
Tears made her eyes shine. “I’m so glad you sent me the ticket.”
“I’m so glad you came.”
“Twice.” She smiled, but it fell away quickly, replaced by that serious, probing gaze. “Do you think we can really make this work after the way it started?”
I hesitated, wanting her to know that the answer was real. Not off-the-cuff, not the result of amazing sex. “I think we’ve probably got a better chance than a lot of people, Blair. Relationships never stay the same. People change. The ability to know that, even though things don’t go the way you planned, you want to be with the other person enough to fight your way though it isn’t something you find every day. That’s why I wrote you that note. That’s why I wanted you to be here. Because after everything, I couldn’t make the idea of life without you make sense.”
“I have a lot to learn. It’s not going to be easy.”
“Why in the hell would I expect easy? I want you to be Blair, and easy isn’t something that comes naturally to the devil.”
She chuckled and rolled into me, hugging my neck and kissing me in a way that made me think number six probably wasn’t far off. Leo was going to kill her if I couldn’t walk well enough to play my second round match tomorrow.
I didn’t know how long we would be together—no one could know such a thing—but I meant what I told her. We made an interesting couple, were yin and yang in so many ways that the disagreements and fights would be inevitable, and probably epic.
But for the first time, when I peered into what might come to pass, I saw the potential for a family of my own. One I could create with a girl determined to be honest from here on out, to build something solid and normal like neither of us had been fortunate enough to have until now.
Whatever lay out there, in the days far beyond this one, I was looking forward to it.
“I’m glad I met you in St. Moritz, Sam Bradford. You changed my life.”
“You changed your life. But I’m proud to be part of it.”
“Part of the future.”
“Part of our future.”
She kissed me again, her tongue sweeping lazily over my bottom lip, and I forgot about everything except today. There was plenty of time to think about tomorrow, and with Blair beside me, I had no doubt that every last moment would be worth the one that came after it.
Thank you for reading Staying On Top! If you enjoyed this novel, I would appreciate so much your taking the time to leave a review for the book on Amazon, iTunes, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads!
If you haven’t, please check out the other Whitman University books - Broken at Love, By Referral Only, and Be My Downfall, and visit us at www.whitmanuniversitybooks.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No book is a solitary effort, and this manuscript is no different. I owe a debt of gratitude to my critique partners and constant cheerleaders - Alessandra Thomas and Denise Grover Swank. My copy editor Lauren Hougen, who gave me back a manuscript a million times cleaner than the one I sent her. My cover designer and graphic artist, who is always on call and never complains - thank you, Eisley Jacobs, for everything that you do.
I have a fantastic street team, the Whitman U Hooters, whose support and enthusiasm and general wonderful-ness warms my heart on a regular basis. They, along with the rest of my readers, make this all worthwhile.
Last (but certainly not least) to my family and friends for putting up with my moodiness, my unwashed hair, and every other hardship that goes along with love me. I appreciate it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I’ve long had a love of stories. A few years ago decided to put them down on the page, and even though I have a degree in film and television, novels were the creative outlet where I found a home. I’ve published Young Adult under a different name, but when I got the idea for Broken at Love (my first New Adult title), I couldn’t wait to try something new - and I’m hooked. In my spare time I watch a ton of tennis (no surprise, there), play a ton of tennis, and dedicate a good portion of brain power to dreaming up the next fictitious bad boy we’d all love to meet in real life.
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Payne, Lyla, Staying On Top (Whitman University)
