by Carina Adams
“You sound like a little boy who was jealous because someone was playing with his toy.”
“Not just any toy,” he argued. “My favorite toy. I am jealous as hell. It’s something I rarely feel and I don’t know how to react or how to handle it. I do know I want to kiss you all the time. I need to touch you. I think about what it’s going to be like to get you naked beneath me. I want you moaning my name, begging me to let you come, digging your nails into my back. I want to make you so sore I’m the first thing you think about when you move in the morning and the last thing you crave at night. I want to own you, break you, ruin you for all others. I want you to be mine.”
There were so many things I wanted to say about his little spiel. I didn’t need a caveman, I needed a friend. His intensity intimidated me.
I liked kissing him too much, though, and wanted his lips back on mine. We’d talk about the rest later. “What are you proposing, exactly?”
“I want us to keep doing exactly what we’re doing. Preferably with a hell of a lot less clothes on.”
I made a point of looking down at my barely-there costume.
He laughed. “Well, I’ll show more skin. You can wear that anytime you want.”
I wanted to laugh, but my mind drifted. “You can tolerate me taking my clothes off in front of other men? You’re going to be okay with me working closely with your best friend and not go ape-shit?”
Lord knew I was struggling with the thought of being Roman’s partner, but I didn’t want to bring that up. That was between Rome and me, no one else.
Reid nodded. “I know you’re going home with me at the end of the night. Plus, it’s kind of a trip, the fact they all want you, but only I get to have you.”
I stared at him, no idea what I was looking for. His eyebrows rose in silent question as he watched me. “What about Violet?”
It was his turn to be taken aback. “I’m not sleeping with Vi. It’s not like that.”
“I know,” I assured him. “You’re her beard, though, right? Everyone thinks she’s your girlfriend. If you and I were out, and we ran into someone who assumed the two of you were a couple, they’d get the wrong idea.”
“People break up all the time. No one expects me to become a monk.’
The idea was laughable. There was nothing saintly about him at all, from the wicked gleam that seemed to be constant in his eyes, to the bright colors that permanently marked his skin, the sinful way he prowled toward me when he wanted me. No, the man would never be mistaken for someone who was anything less than a rake.
However, even if it was a fictional relationship, I didn’t want to blindside my friend. “Talk to Violet, make sure she doesn’t need you. Then we’ll see.”
“Done.” His hands cupped the back of my head and he leaned down to capture my lips. I didn’t want him to stop and felt lonely when he broke the kiss. He must have felt it too, because he braced his forehead against mine. “Stay with me tomorrow night. I want to pull you out of that party, take you back to my house, and make you scream.”
“That’s really creepy,” I deadpanned, not caring if I destroyed the sex image he was going for.
“You’re such a brat. Say you’ll stay with me. And I’ll keep you awake all night without movies and textbooks to distract us.”
I nodded and fought the smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Unlike traditional amphitheaters, the Baxter Arboretum held a hidden oasis tucked away on piece of private property that abutted the UCM campus. Created from all natural materials and built into a steep slope, nine curved retaining walls—each two feet tall and seven-and-a-half feet wide—were covered in grass to create a seating area that surrounded the stage on three sides. A handful of white oaks and quaking aspen were spaced randomly around the theatre to create a canopied ceiling. The space, hidden from all those who didn’t know it existed, would seat over twice the amount they were expecting.
The stage, covered by turf and elevated by a stone wall, loomed above the first two rows. As I stood on the flat ground next to it, I pressed a hand to my stomach in an attempt to calm my chaotic nerves. People buzzed all around me—adjusting lights, testing the speakers, and stocking the make-shift bar—as they prepared for the party that was set to start in under an hour.
I was so lost in my own head, fear and stress controlling all other emotion, I never heard the rest of the Soiree crew arrive. I startled and let loose a little screech when Violet put her cold fingers on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she told me with a little laugh. “I called to you, but you were lost in la-la land.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, not sure what I was apologizing for. I took a deep breath and released is as slowly as I could. “I never heard you.”
“Nervous?”
I nodded, even though it was rhetorical. She offered me an understanding smile and held out a hand to me. I took it, willing to accept any comfort that came my way, hoping to drown out the self-doubt. Together we walked into the woods behind the stage and down one of the pebble-lined paths illuminated with twinkle lights that led to the small party tent—our dressing room for the night.
“You meeting Rome here?”
“No, I rode with him. He’s in a meeting. I was supposed to come back here, but I saw the stage and got stuck in my head.”
“It can be overwhelming,” she assured me, “but once you get the first dance over, you’ll feel so much better. At least we’re all going on together to start. Last year, we didn’t have group routines.”
That surprised me. “How come?”
She shrugged. “We just didn’t. Livie was up first. Thankfully, she’s fearless, but I was shaking when it was my turn.”
Randy greeted us as soon as we slid inside the tent. “Chop, chop, ladies. We have lots to do and very little time to do it.”
He was right, of course. The last thing I wanted was for the party to start and me to be the one who wasn’t ready. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Hair, makeup, and then costume. In that order.”
Roman had insisted we all wear the same mask so it would be harder to tell us apart. Silly, really, considering our bodies looked nothing alike. No one would confuse the short, chubby me with the tall, trim Myra.
Randy took it a step further. Our hair was twisted to the side and secured in a low bun under our right ear. Our makeup was minimal because the mask covered so much of our face, yet our eyes were lined in kohl and we all wore the same shade of burgundy lipstick.
The first costume of the night was absolutely adorable, an homage to the Halloween theme. A black corset with little white polka dots that resembled stars, a black and orange layered tulle skirt—short in the front and long in the back, a silk pointed hat trimmed with a black boa and netting with spiders and bats, and a feather boa in our assigned color around our arms. We were the sexiest coven of witches to ever exist.
When it was time, the boys came in to get us. They also had on masks that covered the majority of their face while their simple black suits were identical. The only way to tell them apart was the color of their ties—Purple, green, burnt orange, and black—one for each of us. The little detail made me smile.
Roman reminded us once more that we were to walk around the party and mingle for the first hour. We could flirt, laugh, and tell anyone who asked our stage name. But, we were not to drink anything unless it came directly from our partner. And we were not go anywhere unless our guard went, too. When it was time, we’d start the show with a group dance, then we’d each do an individual routine, before our another group performance, a second solo each, then our final dance of the night would be all of us before we had to mingle once again. Piece of cake, really.
Before I was ready, we were headed toward the raucous laughter and loud noise of the gathering. I tried to stay with Vi, to follow the deep purple of her boa as she was swallowed by the crowd, but Roman’s hand on my back led me in an opposite direction.
One minute it w
as just the two of us, walking toward the perimeter of the arena, the next we were swarmed with guests. I smiled at them, tried to laugh at their stupid jokes, batted my eyelashes, and pretended to listen as they talked. Most of all, I was relieved that out of all the people I knew at the party, not one single man that surrounded me looked even a bit familiar.
There was no way Lucky wouldn’t recognize me if I was standing right in front in front of him. I could be Ruffles McGee, channel her inner confidence, and put on one hell of a show without a problem. However, I’d always had a divide between Cady and Ruffles. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it if there wasn’t one any more.
When Roman appeared at my side and told me it was time to go, I was actually relieved. Then I heard a familiar voice echoing around the area as it welcomed everyone. I spun away from Rome and slid behind a cowboy, a batman, and a Hugh Heffner to get a better look at the stage. I had to be wrong.
I wasn’t. There, center-stage, laughing into a microphone—in the skimpiest ringmaster costume I’d ever seen—was Livie. She had on a mask similar to mine, but her face was the only thing hidden. She’d come dressed to get attention.
Roman beckoned to me. “We’ve got to go.”
I let him pull me out of the crowd and moved close enough so he could hear me. “Livie’s here?”
He nodded, but didn’t glance down at me. “She offered to host for me. She didn’t tell you?”
I ignored the question because the surprise irked me. Yes, I’d successfully avoided her for two weeks. She could have sent me a quick text or left a voice mail to tell me, though. This was my job, not hers.
“We don’t usually have hosts,” I pointed out with a growl.
“No. Tonight’s all new territory for us.” He leaned in as we picked our way around groups of people and hurried toward the stage. “How you holding up?”
“Fine.” I snapped, unable to let go of my agitation with him, especially since Livie had appeared out of thin air. I felt bad when his brow furrowed slightly, so I added, “Ready to dance.”
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Really?”
“I like dancing. Even if I screw it up, it’s not as torturous as dealing with people.”
He ignored my attitude and laughed. “Yeah, people always ruin it.”
He had no idea how much I agreed with him. “I’m anxious and excited to see how we do as a group.”
“You should be. It was your idea.”
“No it wasn’t.” I argued.
“It was.” He smiled. “In Boston, you mentioned it.”
I thought back, trying to remember, but the conversation didn’t come to mind. Everyone was already on stage, standing just out of view of the audience, waiting for me. Rome’s hand patted my backside as I hurried up the stone steps.
“Break a leg, crazy girl. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
Thirty
Roman
Fiona Apple’s “Criminal” started seconds after I made it to my viewing spot at the side of the stage. The majority of party goers stopped talking and turned their attention to the dancers, but I hoped the lights were too bright and Cady couldn’t see everyone look her way. She was a bundle of nerves and if she thought people weren’t paying attention, she might relax a bit.
For the past two weeks, something had been off. She’d struggled repeatedly, unable to keep up with the others in practice, and had had a major attitude whenever I was around. She’d lost weight and Randy had to take in all her costumes almost an inch. I’d been so concerned I’d almost pulled her from the show.
Reid assured me she was fine, just tired from all the late nights at his house—fucker never missed an opportunity to tell me they were together.
It only took a few moments to realize my worry had been unnecessary. I didn’t know when she’d had the chance to learn the routine, but up on that stage, she dominated. Long gone was the clumsy and shy girl who I’d met in a coffee shop. In her place was a temptress, sent to lure men to the dark side.
As the song wound down, I wanted to clap and cheer along with the guests. Just as strong was the urge to hurry around the back and pull her into my arms, to congratulate her with a kiss that promised better things to come.
I pushed it down, kept my face neutral, and made my way behind the stage. The lights went out, the crowd cheered, and the girls came down one at a time, arms full of the clothes they’d discarded, breath ragged. Myra smiled when she made eye contact with me, Peaches winked, Violet blew me a kiss. They knew they’d kicked ass, but then again, there had never been anything but excited energy from them because they never doubted themselves.
When Ruffles finally ran down the steps a few seconds later, a move that surprised me considering the height of her heels, I rushed toward her to help break the fall I was sure would come. As soon as she saw me, she threw her costume to the ground and launched herself. The impact made me back up a few steps, but my arms locked tight around her instantly, like they were meant to be there.
“Oh, my God! Did you see?” She gushed. “Were you watching?”
I nodded. It was all I could do because my eyes refused to move from her lips. The urge to kiss her as strong as it had been that night at the Inn months before. I wanted to get lost in her.
My Adam’s apple bobbed as I swallowed once. Then again. I tried to ignore the way my body reacted to hers, how she felt in my arms, the way my pulse pounded, and my blood started to boil.
My thumb moved against her back and all I felt was smooth skin. All at once I remembered she was practically naked, in nothing but a thong and tiny bra. Suddenly, so many other little details became glaringly obvious. The way her nipples were hard and erect—either because to the chilly temps, or because she felt the undeniable pull between us, too—against my chest. The way her body shook in tiny shivers as she bit her lip and stared up at me with wide gray eyes that seemed to be pleading for something. But most of all, the fact we weren’t alone or somewhere private, and at any minute, anyone could see us.
Reluctantly, I put her down and backed away. I snatched the robe I’d left on a rock and draped it over her shoulders as Liv started to work the crowd. “You did good.”
She cleared her throat and bent to gather the things she’d dropped. I leaned down to help, but when we reached for the same piece, and our fingers touched, the electrical current between us zapped once again. Her beautiful breasts began to rise and fall in quick succession, my heart started to hammer in my chest, and before I could stop myself I cupped her cheek.
“You did better than good,” I muttered as I traced the skin on her cheek the mask didn’t cover. “You were amazing. I couldn’t look away.”
Her slow, shy smile warmed my heart. Her fingers wrapped around my tie and gave me a gentle yank. Not hard enough I couldn’t resist if I wanted, but I was tired of fighting it.
Unlike the first time I’d kissed her, I didn’t move slow, didn’t give her the chance to push me away. I needed her too much. She opened for me, welcoming me home. I groaned into her, hoping the moment never ended.
She tasted like strawberries still. No whiskey this time, no alcohol to cloud our judgment. Her fingers tightened in the lapels of my jacket and she moved close as she deepened the kiss.
I wanted to stay in that moment, to keep my hands and lips on some part of her, all night. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a warning bell rang. I knew we had things to do, something urgent that needed our attention, that what I was doing wasn’t right. I also knew that if we stopped, I didn’t know when I’d get to kiss her again and that mattered more to me than anything.
She pulled away first. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her lips, as the reality of what we’d done sunk in. I held up a hand in surrender and my mind searched for the right thing to say, something that might calm her. A full-fledged melt-down was the last thing we needed.
Instead of freaking out, though, my crazy girl just started to laugh like it was the funniest thing she’d
ever done. “Wow,” she shook her head. “I heard the high of a good performance can make you irrational, but just wow.”
“Yeah, wow.” If she heard my annoyed tone, she ignored it.
She stood and faced me. “I am so sorry. I’m so embarrassed.” She started down the path so I followed. “I really don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s fine.”
It wasn’t. I didn’t want to hear some pathetic excuse, or for her to try to explain away her attraction. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t be honest with herself and admit she felt it, too. I was tempted to ask, to demand that she tell me, but I didn’t know if I wanted to hear her answer.
It was a step in the right direction, better than her snapping at me over nothing, and being annoyed by my existence. I needed to ask her about that, too, but I knew it was connected to Reid and their late nights. I definitely didn’t want to hear that answer.
I dropped her off in the tent and waited with the rest of my guys at the stone wall as Myra took the stage. In a minute, Peaches would go up and wait on deck. Then Violet behind her. And then me and Ruffles.
It was wrong, but I looked forward to the few minutes I’d have alone with her.
I watched Reid as he joked with Drake, but Myra’s music was too loud so I couldn’t hear what they said. He looked good, the exhaustion from the last few weeks had vanished, and he seemed happier than he had in years. I didn’t begrudge him. Above everything, he was my best friend and I wanted him to be happy.
As much of an asshole as it made me, I didn’t want Cady to be the reason he looked so damn content. I didn’t want to be jealous of him. I fucking hated that I was, actually.
All my life I’d shared everything I’d had with him without a second thought because I’d never wanted him to be left out. Reid was like my brother and his happiness had always meant just as much to me as my own. This time, though, he had something I wanted more than I’d ever wanted anything.
