Styled (Travesty Book 4)

by Piper Lawson

  I turned away from the view. I couldn’t look at it anymore. I didn’t deserve to be here, in this expensive apartment looking at the setting sun while people were suffering because of me.

  But I couldn’t lie down. Couldn’t call anyone.

  Couldn’t do anything.

  I was coming out of my skin.

  No more.

  With a shaky hand, I grabbed the leather jacket off the peg by the door.

  28

  Ethan

  No.

  I tossed the shirt on the bed and tried another.

  No.

  Picking out clothes was usually easy. Now, I wasn’t happy with anything for tonight’s reception with the developers.

  Barlow hadn’t called me back the past two days. But, both Mick and I had been forwarded revised copies of the plans that included upgraded specs on water and energy usage.

  A dark satisfaction worked through me. With that win and Axe’s house selling, I should’ve been on a high. Instead it felt like I was batting zero.

  I hadn’t gone to Jordan’s the other day planning to lose my head. But now that I hadn’t heard from her since, it somehow felt like I’d gotten played.

  Which was stupid. How exactly had she played me?

  By deceiving me, an older guy, into sleeping with her.

  Without protection.

  Or making sure she came before I did.

  Or waiting until we were in a bed.

  Or at least off someone else’s property.

  It wasn’t just laughable. It was sickening.

  But if I’d known she was a virgin, I wouldn’t have slept with her.

  Would I?

  I mean…it was Jordan. Quick with a joke and slow with a smile. Always watching, always noticing. Awkward around the edges, like the duck who didn’t realize she’d turned into a swan.

  Fuck. I still would’ve.

  If I’d known, though, I would’ve taken my time. Not on the back of my bike, but somewhere soft. Her bed, or mine. Nice lighting. John Legend playing in the background. Or maybe Drake…

  Whatever the virgins like these days. Reddit probably has a thread.

  The point is, I’d have gone slow, like I was supposed to. Told her how fucking beautiful she was. How much it meant that she’d wanted this.

  Because now that I knew? It did mean something.

  It meant everything.

  All the fantasies burst like bubbles in my head. I’m not that guy. I’m smooth but I’m not a romantic. And we were never going to have more than a couple of weeks together.

  So why does it matter so much?

  My stomach turned over.

  It mattered because she was right. It wasn’t hurting her that I was afraid of. It was what would happen when she left.

  Everything would be the same. The same people. The same parties. The same big houses and the same rich clients.

  I didn’t hate my life. But the thought of her going had everything looking a little less bright.

  I fastened the cuffs on my green shirt. The guy in the mirror had dull, sullen eyes and a tight mouth. Tonight was my chance to dig myself back out of one of the holes I’d created this week. The only one I could control.

  The bell sounded and I frowned, crossing to the front hall and hitting the light as I finished doing up my shirt. A glance at the security camera had my heart beating faster.

  I opened the door.

  “Jordan.” Her hair looked like she’d half-dried it after showering. Under the leather jacket—mine, I realized absently—she was wearing jean shorts and a Snoopy tank top.

  She fidgeted under the light. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  Jordan’s expression didn’t change as she brushed past me into the house. The bike helmet in her hands caught my attention.

  “Hold up. You drove my Ducati over here wearing that?”

  She set the helmet down on the bench in my hall. “Technically, I drove it all over the Westside first. But don’t worry. Your bike is fine.”

  I took in her shoes, barely more than sandals, and anger and fear clashed in my chest.

  “I don’t give a shit about the bike,” I bit out. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Or worse.”

  I wanted to shout at her, but the redness around her eyes had me cutting off the tirade.

  “We’ll talk about the bike later. Just come inside.”

  She trailed me through the hall toward the living room. “I didn’t know you had fish.”

  “Yeah. Gift from Axe a couple years ago.” Crossing to the tank, I lifted my finger to point out the clown fish along with three others. “That’s Bumblebee. And Optimus Prime. And Megatron. And Ironhide.” The last was a blowfish with spikes.

  “You named them after Transformers.” Her expression softened as she stood next to me, just out of reach. She traced a finger along the glass, watching as Bumblebee swam along the tank and followed.

  Her attention was on the fish, but mine was on her. I saw a tear streak down her face, caught in the blue neon light from the tank.

  I stepped into her, brushing it away with my thumb. “Hey,” I murmured as she sucked in a breath. “What is it?”

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” she said, her voice steely beneath the surface. “I drove around for two hours and ran out of other places to go.”

  My body stiffened, and I forced my fingers not to tense up on her face. “The other day I said some things I shouldn’t have. Don’t ever think I don’t want to see you. Now what the hell is wrong?”

  Jordan crossed to the couch and sank into the cushion. I followed, sitting facing her as she pulled her knees up. The move put her farther from me, but I didn’t comment.

  “Remember that furniture company I told you about? The one I used to work at?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re closing it.”

  My body tightened. “I thought they already did a round of layoffs.”

  “They did. I thought that was it, but they’re closing it. People are panicking. They think I have an inside track on it because of my father. Some of them are begging. Some of them are threatening. I have to do something.”

  Blond hair fell across Jordan’s face and she looked younger. Heartbreakingly lost.

  “I’m sorry, Jordan. But…do you think you’re so invested in this, in stopping it, because you want to prove you’re not your father?”

  Her expression darkened. “Don’t try to peg me, Ethan. It’s not that simple. I’m not that simple.” She shoved up from the couch.

  “I never said you were.” Shit. I followed her toward the hall, a step behind.

  Until she grabbed the bike helmet and reached for the door.

  “No.” My arm shot over her shoulder, slamming the door that’d barely opened an inch. “There’s no way in hell you’re going back out there like this.”

  Even though she was facing the other way, I could feel the frustration, the hurt, coming off her like it was alive. Her forehead pressed against the door, and her shoulders shook under the leather jacket. I grabbed her arm and turned her around. Tears stained her cheeks, her lips. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the world.

  Fear took hold in my gut. This wasn’t a girl who let things get to her. But now, she was a mess.

  “Don’t you get it, Ethan? This was my fault,” she whispered. “I fucked up. I made a decision and now, the company’s going under.”

  I didn’t know what to do, so I took her hand in mine. Her fingers were cool and I squeezed them reassuringly. “Come on.”

  “Where are we—?”

  “Come on.”

  I led Jordan silently through the house. I hit the dimmer in my bedroom, and the pot lights cast a low glow over the tidy space.

  Jordan’s attention landed on my California king bed, and she balked.

  “I’m not asking you for sex. Shit.”

  The idea she could’ve thought that was one more reason I should’ve stayed far, far
away from her.

  “Just…come here.” I pulled her down onto the bed next to me and wrapped my arm around her, tucking her head against my shoulder.

  It’d been a long time since I comforted a girl. Possibly since one of Ava’s tantrums when we’d lived under the same roof. Even with Gia, if she was pissed, you’d hear about it. But by the next day it’d be gone. Rolled right off her.

  Jordan’s knees pulled up, and she wrapped a fist around my body, pulling closer into me and pressing her face against my shirt. I could feel the tears through the fabric.

  It didn’t matter.

  I didn’t know the company, or its people, or what she was going through. But I did get what it was like to be blindsided by something you thought you had a handle on.

  When I heard the first sob wrench from her throat, my fingers reached up to stroke her hair. “Hey,” I murmured as the silky strands spilled between my fingers. “It’s going to work out.”

  The shaky breath was the only indication she’d even heard me. I stayed right where I was, playing with her hair. Feeling helpless that there was nothing I could do that would fix this, and wishing viciously that there was.

  My phone rang in the living room. Probably Dom. The clock on my bedside table told me I should’ve been on the road by now.

  Being late after the call I’d made to Barlow earlier this week would be a bad move.

  But Jordan’s fingers found my shirt, tugging me closer. One of her long legs curled over mine, resting across my dress pants. I shoved the other thoughts out of my head as I brushed the tears away from her face.

  Minutes later, her breathing levelled out. I pulled out of her grasp and rose from the bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  I glanced back. “Getting you some water.”

  “Ethan…come back.” Her face was pink, stained with what was left of the tears, but her eyes were clearing.

  “I will.”

  “No, I mean right now.”

  It was a plea and a demand. The vulnerability in her face had my chest tightening.

  Wordlessly I crossed the floor and climbed back onto the bed with her. She curled into me, her head pressed into my shirt that was already damp. My gaze found the ceiling, working back and forth on the nothingness above us as I inhaled her scent.

  29

  Ethan

  Jordan was asleep when I finally I slid out of bed to change out of my shirt and pants. I’d managed to coax her out of the jacket, shorts and tank and into one of my T-shirts.

  I stood on my back patio so she wouldn’t wake up, calling the number that’d been blowing up my phone.

  “What do you mean you’re not going to show?” Dom’s voice came down the line. I heard laughter in the background, and music.

  “I can’t,” I muttered, taking a seat on the rattan couch and looking out over the expanse of grass leading to a fence. “I’m sorry, something came up.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “Just cover for me. I’ll be there for the presentations tomorrow afternoon. This is like the rehearsal dinner.”

  “You get how important this is. They might make up their minds tonight.”

  I thought about it. “I guess I’m going to have to take that chance.”

  Dom swore. “You’re going to lose the biggest shot of your career. Whatever this version of Ethan Cameron is? I don’t know him.”

  Unable to sleep, I grabbed my computer from the living room and took it out with me. I left the sliding door open so I could hear the rest of the house.

  The bright screen provided the only light besides the moon as I worked, updating listings. Scanning sites. Trying not to think about what was happening at the restaurant.

  Rustling behind me had me lifting my head.

  “Hey.” Jordan appeared in the gap left by the half-open sliding door.

  My T-shirt was barely long enough for her tall frame. Blond hair fell in defiant waves that grazed her shoulders. In the low light I could see her cheeks were still flushed but her eyes were clear.

  “Hey.”

  “You working?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  She went back inside and I followed her, pulling the door after me. She crossed to my bookshelf, tracing a finger over the magazines and pausing to inspect a picture. Then the kitchen, opening a cupboard, a drawer, but not as if she was looking for anything.

  I took a seat on the couch and followed her movements with my eyes, wondering what she saw.

  I’d bought this place three years ago after my first big year. It was two bedrooms but a killer location, just off the ocean. The space was professionally decorated—I didn’t have time or patience—but there were traces of me in it. Family pictures. A fantasy basketball trophy. A painting I’d bought on impulse at a market.

  I wondered if she’d be surprised by my record player and vinyl collection in the second bedroom.

  The thing was, I never brought girls here. No one since Gia had seen it. But seeing Jordan here didn’t make me uncomfortable.

  Jordan paused by the island in my kitchen, leaning her elbows on the granite top and lifting a card from the surface. “Ethan, what is this?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It says it’s for your development. And it’s tonight.” Jordan turned it over in her fingers, reading the text. Her eyes were alert when they came back to mine. “This has your name on it. It was a big deal.”

  I shifted back the couch. “It’s LA. Everyone thinks they’re a big deal here.”

  “You didn’t go because of me.” She set down the card, a question plain in her voice.

  Even when I tried to keep this girl away from me, she did something to me. For me.

  The pot lights cast a soft glow on her hair, formed shadows on her body. I knew each curve and dip. But I couldn’t read what was in her head. Her irritation. Or confusion. I had to wait until she decided to show it to me, and that tore me up because I’d never wanted to read someone so badly.

  “Jordan. I’m not a white knight kind of guy. And you’re the last woman in the world to need saving. But when you came in here tonight…” I reached up to scratch my neck, dangerously close to something I couldn’t make sense of “…all I could think was that there was nothing I wouldn’t give to make everything OK for you. I shouldn’t feel this way. I don’t know how to stop it.”

  Jordan’s gaze moved over mine, her body perfectly still. After an eternity she crossed to the couch, stopping when her shins brushed mine. All I could do was look at her and know that everything in me was plain on my face.

  “Good,” she murmured, her voice wavering at the end. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  Jordan’s words freed something inside my chest, even before she shifted to straddle me, her hips resting on my legs. The bare skin of her smooth thighs burned through my jeans. Her eyes sparked, like a storm starting over the sea.

  At first, all I’d wanted was to touch her.

  Now…

  Now, I realized, I had to have all of her.

  Fuck the fact that she was leaving. That she was too young and not at all my type. That I’d taken from her when I should’ve given to her. The expression on her face told me I could make up for it, and that she wanted me to.

  I’d die trying.

  Jordan took my hand in hers, bringing it slowly to her mouth.

  The kiss she pressed to my palm was small and chaste but the way her gaze was steady on mine…

  I hoped to hell she meant something by it, because I couldn’t stop reading into every move she made. Every look. Every touch.

  “Jordan.”

  She released my hand, leaning forward to take my face in her fingertips. Her lips grazed my cheek and my jaw clenched. I reached for her, but she pushed my arm away.

  Her mouth brushed my neck. The faintest scrape of her teeth woke every nerve ending under my skin.

  “Jordan…” I groaned. Need sprang up in me, threatening to
take me over.

  By the time her lips found mine, it took everything I had not to grab her hair in my hands and force her closer.

  She kissed me like she fucking meant it.

  And it was so much more than that first kiss in Vegas, because this time?

  This time, I meant it too.

  I muttered Jordan’s name against her mouth. I couldn’t stop my fingers from tangling in her hair. Not to pull, just to hold her. My whole body was begging her to give me everything she had.

  Kissing is a gateway to sex. A warm up for the main act. But at this moment, with this girl, I could have kissed for fucking ever. My lips, my tongue, telling her without words how much this meant. How much I wanted to start over. How much I wanted this to be OK. Us to be OK.

  Jordan tasted like a warm breeze. Our tongues tangled slowly, like we had all the time in the world. It was cruel, because time was the only thing I didn’t have with her. But for tonight I could pretend.

  I ran my hands up her smooth thighs, the bottom of the T-shirt grazing my fingers.

  She made a noise as I urged her legs around me, using my strength to lift both of us.

  Walking on memory, I crossed to the bedroom.

  I bumped into a wall that wasn’t supposed to be there. The jarring made me let go.

  Her feet found the floor but never once did her kiss break.

  As if she was afraid that breaking the kiss would break whatever spell we were under together.

  She pressed her back into the wall, her arms still twined around my neck.

  I tugged her hips against mine, needing the feel of her to soothe the storm building in me.

  She reached for the hem of her T-shirt—my T-shirt—and yanked it up and over her head, pulling back just long enough for it to pass between us.

  I knew her bra was gone too when she pressed against me, her bare skin searing mine.

  “You’re hot.” My finger skimmed over her shoulder, down the curve of her breast, her ribcage, to her waist. Jordan arched into me.

  “I was dreaming about you.” The low confession got me even harder. But the response went way past my dick, set up shop in my chest.