“Yes, actually,” she says, challenging me to another stare down. We’re getting good at them. When she sashays to the edge of the bed by my feet, my nostrils flare. And when she leans over for the tank, her breasts are pushed together. It looks like she’s ready to crawl toward me, on hands and knees, and I’m ready to let her.
But she snatches the tank from my hands at the last second and smiles. “Thanks.”
She walks away then, pulling the tank on before sitting back on the edge of the bed. She puts her shoes on, one at a time, torturing me.
Her hair falls over one side, shielding her face from me. I want to know what she’s thinking. How she really feels about this.
I may have only just met her last night, but I can sense last night was a big deal for her as it was for me. She came for me.
Under my touch.
From my tongue.
And from her moans and tinged cheeks before we fell back into bed, she clearly liked it.
My dick twitches, wanting desperately for one more go-around. Morning sex has always been my cup of coffee, giving me the energy to start the day off right.
But the sun’s up. The twinkling lights from last night are gone. It’s a clear day, and the fantasy is gone.
She spins around, scanning the room to probably make sure she didn’t miss anything. Tucking strands of hair behind her ears with both hands, I can finally see her whole face, including her flushed cheeks.
“You are so beautiful.”
She faces me, giving me her full attention with a dazed smile. “You’re a real charmer, you know.”
“It’s the truth.”
She averts her gaze, a sadness washing over her features. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew me in my real life.”
My chest squeezes, wondering what she means. Wondering what she’s like in her real life. Because although she told me her biggest fear, I don’t know the most basic things about her: what she does for a living, what her hobbies are, what her favorite food is.
The thought of never finding out, of never knowing why she said that, sends panic to every cell in my body, nerves firing off like they do in a fight-or-flight situation.
And my panic overwhelms me—an unfamiliar sensation for me.
I don’t want this to be a one-night stand at all. The realization is too much for me to handle.
But as Kendall finishes getting ready and makes her way to the door, I don’t have a choice.
Chapter 13
Kendall
“Can I do my walk of shame now in peace?” I wink at Sebastian, who’s outstretched and taking up most of the bed with his large frame. He’s avoiding my gaze, so I figured I’d try lightening the mood, but it’s not working. He looks worried, scared even, and it about breaks me. “If I can even walk,” I joke, and this time I at least get a smirk.
I watch him, study him like he’s a rare species. He is in my book, anyway. The only guy to make me smile more than I have in three years. The one to give me my first orgasmic experience.
Literally.
That’s all I really wanted last night. To experience one for the first time. To feel something, anything, for once.
And I did.
But as I move around the room, the familiar emptiness settles in the pit of my stomach.
And right on cue, my stomach growls.
Sebastian’s head snaps toward me. “We need to get you some food.”
“I am. We’re having brunch,” I say, with my hand around a fake cup of tea and my pinky in the air. I expect him to smile, but he just continues staring intensely at me, like he wants me as his meal. His look and mussed dark hair have me ready to jump back in bed and stay there. Order room service. Mimosas and strawberries too.
I use all my leftover energy to gather the empty tequila bottles and pillows that are strewn around the room like a scatter plot diagram, the dots leading me away from him.
When he climbs off the bed and starts dressing, his eyes follow me around the room.
This isn’t my usual routine. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act with him. Normally after sex, I make excuses to force them to leave, or if we’re at their place, I sneak out quietly and unseen. If they do happen to wake, they’re in the shower before I have time to put on my second shoe.
That’s the reason I kick them out, before they have a chance to make me feel unwanted.
I never make it to sunrise with them.
Sebastian, on the other hand, seems like he can’t get enough of me. Like I’m the rare carb he allows his lean body to eat.
When my wristlet is firmly in my hand, I exhale deeply, preparing myself for our imminent goodbye. I dig deep to gather more energy to meet Lauren and her friends. Enough energy to leave Sebastian, who looks like a buttermilk pancake—hot and delicious.
His nostrils flare when we stand face-to-face by the door, the windows stretching to our side. The Strip is so different during the day, almost like a normal city instead of a magical one that comes alive at night. The sky is a regular shade of blue, nearly as light as the clouds. Cars and people don’t seem to be in a hurry. Sunday morning is a hungover person’s worst nightmare, so they’re probably seeking solace in a pile of biscuits and pots of coffee already or sleeping it off until noon.
“I’ll walk you down,” he offers with a firm kiss on my lips, his tongue parting my lips with ease.
I shake my head and move toward the door, swallowing my nervousness. Smoothing my hair down and wiping under my eyes for any runaway mascara, I say, “You don’t need to. My sister is staying in this hotel, so I’ll find her and her minions easily.” I give him a small smile, nervous under his scrutiny.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let my lady walk all alone in the Vegas jungle?” His face transforms into his signature grin that’s come to fill me with warmth.
“Right. You’re a gentleman. And I’m a lady, a real debutante.” I roll my eyes and tuck a strand of unruly hair behind my ear as the door clicks shut behind us, the sound echoing down the empty hallway and over our heads like we’ve shut the door on what’s happening between us.
He takes my hand once inside the elevator and doesn’t let go while we walk downstairs. I let him hold it, let my fingers curl around his and enjoy the moment.
I don’t want to say goodbye, but I know I have to. It’s the only logical thing to do. He lives here, and I live in LA. We’re from different worlds, in so many ways. It’s a recipe for disaster.
Like Rachel cooking a trifle for Thanksgiving dinner on Friends and making it wrong, adding beef and sautéed peas and onions to a cold dessert—disaster.
We’d take a good thing, a fun and wild night, and I’d ruin it with my insecurities and drama. And let’s not forget my family, who already thinks me a disappointment.
Even if I was ready for it, any kind of relationship with a stripper would send them over the edge.
When we reach the lobby, I spot Lauren immediately, sporting her “Bride” shirt while the others wear matching “Bridesmaid” shirts. The slim-fit ones with the V-neck tucked into their matching high-waisted jeans with a thick tan belt.
Trendy enough to be a Pinterest post.
I’m late just like yesterday, my time management skills extremely poor, another thing they gripe at me for. I let go of Sebastian’s hand and walk to my sister. Hopefully, one of them will give me a key so I can freshen up and finally put some clean clothes on.
Before I open my mouth, Lauren swivels her head around like the doll Annabelle herself. Her eyes skim over my face and lock onto something—or someone—behind me.
Sebastian.
“Oh my God, aren’t you the stripper from last night?”
Sebastian swoops in beside me. “As a matter of fact, I am. Good to see you again. Lilly, is it?”
“Lauren,” she sneers and turns to me. “Don’t tell me he’s why you didn’t come up to the room last night.” She looks me up and down. “And why you’re wearing the same disgusting outfit.�
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“Brace yourself, because he is.” I roll my eyes and turn toward Sam, the only one who’s usually reasonable. “Now, can I get a key to—”
“Seriously? This is why you bailed? I called you like a hundred times. I was close to calling the police.”
Elaine leans in with arms crossed. “I told you she was fine, and with a guy.”
Sebastian chimes in, proudly sticking his chest out. “Yes, she was.” He then turns to Lauren. “And next time we’ll be sure to change her voice mail to include ‘Too busy fucking random hot guy to come to the phone right now. Please leave a message.’”
I cough a laugh, hiding it behind my hand. I should’ve been mad, but I can’t be when Lauren’s face is twisted up like it is when she needs to fart in public but doesn’t because “it’s not ladylike.”
“Really, Kendall? This is so typical.” She points a slender finger at me like I’m her child, not her twenty-three-year-old sister. “You show up late, screw the stripper, and then flaunt it around in front of me and my friends. You never fail to embarrass me.” She throws her hands up. “For once, just once, you couldn’t just be here for me. Show up on time, fake a few laughs, and go home. Can’t do even the simplest of things for me.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she checks around to make sure we haven’t attracted an audience, I’m sure, and through her rude comments, I actually sense she’s hurt deep down.
Deep, deep down.
Sebastian tenses beside me, so I place a hand on his chest to let him know I can handle Lauren and her hostility. I’ve been doing it for the last seven years. “How about you and your friends stop acting like you’re better than everyone else, and then maybe I’ll consider your idea.” I take a step forward, curling my fists in a challenge that she better step down from. We’re not teenagers anymore, but she never fails to make me feel like one.
One who’ll tackle her to the ground.
Standing next to each other, we look like twins. Same wide eyes and lips so plump you’d think we get Botox. Only difference is the hair—blond to honey brown. She doesn’t dye hers and claims to be naturally beautiful. Not in so many words, but with her attitude.
We’re the same height at five four. Same body type of full hips with a small waist that Instagram models would be jealous of. Lauren’s slightly thinner, her arms not as toned as mine. She doesn’t work out with Emma like I do.
But the biggest difference is our personality.
She takes notice of my fists. “Calm down before someone’s nose gets broken again.”
“Good one.” I roll my eyes and pull Sebastian to the side, embarrassed that he was a witness to our spat, but also nervous that Lauren would elaborate on the unfortunate incident from long ago when I lost my shit—not my finest moment in the slightest.
He steps in so close to me that I think he’ll kiss me, but instead, he says, “Will you marry me?”
My eyes narrow, skeptical of his question. “After that? That childish argument?”
“Exactly.” His eyes are animated, different from his previously intense gaze. “You are fierce, sexy as fuck, and I have half a mind to drag you upstairs like I did last night and settle in between your legs for the rest of the day.”
I look into his eyes. He’s serious, and hungry again. “As appealing as that sounds… I should go.” My voice is strained and needy, even though I’m saying no. “At the very least, I need a clean shirt. A shower. A fucking comb.” I stutter on the last word, thinking about the reason I need a comb. His hands mussed up my hair so much all night, I’ll spend all day getting the knots out.
He looks down. “We have a show tonight, in San Francisco. Leaving in a couple hours.”
“Oh…”
“Guess this is goodbye, then.” He looks at me hesitantly, shy even. Almost boyish, like he doesn’t want to say what he’s really thinking.
I take a deep breath. If this were my game I usually play to keep me in control, I’d get his number, then give him a sweet peck on the cheek and walk away, swaying my hips more heavily for his benefit.
The perfect ending to a fun game.
But I can’t bring myself to do it. This feels like more than just a game. “I guess it is.” I offer a smile, but his face falls. Clearly not what he wanted me to say.
But his smile is back, in true Sebastian fashion. I may have only met him yesterday, but I’ve noticed his smile is second nature for him. It’s always plastered on his face even if he’s hurting deep down. And last night I got a glimpse of his true sadness when he talked about his hotel dream. The way he held on to it like a secret, not sharing the whole story.
As curious as I am to continue getting to know him, to uncover all his secrets like they lead to his heart of gold underneath, I’ll save us both from the pain in the future if I walk away now. He doesn’t realize it now, but he doesn’t want to know me.
I’m doing him a favor.
He kisses me one more time, and heat envelops me, settling at my core. Nothing sweet or innocent about this kiss as his tongue explores mine. I lean my body against his and stifle a moan.
“We have reservations at Nobu,” Lauren says behind me, and her disapproval might as well have slapped me in the face.
Elaine pokes her head around Lauren and adds, “I heard that’s where the Kardashians eat.” She practically squeals, like I care where they eat. Unless that magically makes the food delicious enough to pay the obscene price for it, it doesn’t matter to me who eats there.
Sebastian interjects. “You know, I heard that place is also where that old jackass baseball player eats. Stack is much classier.”
I stifle a laugh, once again happy he butted in. Although I can stick up for myself, it’s nice to have someone there for me for once. Someone to fight for me. Aside from Emma, no one does that for me.
“Uh, thanks for your input.” Lauren scoffs with obvious sarcasm. She turns to me with her arms crossed, but her eyes are pleading, almost begging me to read her mind like we used to pretend we could. When we shared a bedroom and thought we were psychologically connected because we had the same dream once, at the same time. We never did again. “Are you coming?”
I glance briefly at Sebastian before turning to her, stepping out of the way for a big group of students in matching “Senior” T-shirts. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Before she turns, she gives me a small smile, only a hint, before she scowls and mutters to the other girls, “It smells like fucking smoke and feet. Let’s get out of here.”
Typical Lauren.
“You know the sad thing?” I fidget with my hands, turning my attention to Sebastian. “We actually used to be friends. You know, during prehistoric times, when we had a pet raptor named Blue and trained her to be our protector.”
His throaty laugh blocks out all the dinging from the slot machines and the chatter from couples, groups of friends, and families excited to see the city. To get their day started, when it feels like mine’s ending before it even began.
“I think I remember that,” he says. “Was it you or your sister who created the monstrous Indominus Rex?”
I smile at how well he knows Jurassic World, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. It mirrors his sad smile as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. I step closer and place my hand on his cheek, the stubble a stark contrast to my smooth palm. Before I kiss him, I hold his gaze and don’t stop until his tongue swipes along my bottom lip, seductive and hot.
When he pulls back, he tucks a stray hair from my forehead behind my ear and then kisses the back of my hand. “My lady.”
I nod, too hot and overwhelmed to speak. I walk ten feet before glancing back to see he’s still watching me. He raises one hand in a weak wave, and I continue walking.
I take the elevator up to our floor, feeling like I’m missing something the whole way.
And hoping he remembers this small-town girl he met in a city full of lights.
Chapter 14
Sebastian
I place my hand on m
y chest, over my heart, willing it to stop beating so loudly.
This is how it was always supposed to be.
I stand there a minute longer, but Kendall disappears in a sea of gamblers and sightseers with visors and fanny packs.
The tall ceiling and open room make me feel small.
I was on top of the world when I was on top of Kendall last night. Like the first time I reached the top of the Space Needle and rode the roller coaster—terrifyingly awesome. It was my first week after I moved to Vegas from LA, eight years ago. Before I met the woman who betrayed my trust and ruined relationships of any kind for me.
Of getting close to anyone else.
Of keeping me from chasing after Kendall and begging her for more time, or at the very least, her last name.
Last night made me want to dredge up my past, but I fight with myself to keep it in the dark. To bottle it up and bury it deep inside so I can protect myself. That’s why I set my rules in place to begin with, and last night, I broke all of them. Now I’m standing here alone, being pushed by eager tourists and getting checked out by the cocktail waitresses.
I smile at one who’s walking toward me, but before she gets too close, I pull my phone out and fake a call.
Feeling guilty, I mouth, “Sorry,” to the young girl with skin almost as pale as her curly blond hair. Her lips pout while her eyes smile. My younger self would be backing her into a corner and asking her out before sticking my tongue down her throat. I was relentless and carefree back then.
The new me would’ve just asked her out with promises of only one night and nothing more.
But the even newer me, the latest version as of the last twenty-four hours, turns my back to her and pretends to be on a call.
Once outside, the sun blinds me, and I shield my eyes in an attempt to adjust to the brightness that matches many of the smiles on the tourists’ faces. No clouds in sight. An otherwise beautiful day, if I didn’t feel so empty. So restless.
Strip for Me Page 6
