Good luck.
I lean against the wall beside him, watching the cars drive by, the music from inside faint. I wiggle my ankle around to get blood flow to my toes in these restrictive shoes.
Still, Sebastian watches me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. It’s too intense, and I’m trying to regain control, put up my necessary walls to keep him wanting more, because he’s not going to want more if he knows more about me.
He shoves a hand down his pocket and takes a puff, then lightly laughs with his eyes cast downward, like the crack in the sidewalk is in the shape of a funny cartoon. “I’ve been dreaming about you nonstop since Vegas.”
I’m offended by the way he laughs, as though he’s disappointed that it’s not what he expected. That I’m not what he expected.
Like he ordered a delicious supreme pizza, but only a cheese pizza was delivered, so he had to settle for the less exciting, less colorful one.
For the first time, I’m uncomfortable around a guy. One I’ve already slept with. Maybe this is what it’s like beyond the one-night stand?
Determined to win this game, to stay in control, I smirk. “Why don’t we head back to my apartment and give you some more material to dream about?”
He draws his eyebrows together, indecision crossing his features, and for a moment, I think he’s going to decline.
For a moment, I feel it’s over between us before it even began.
And the feeling leaves a large lump in my throat and uneasiness in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter 22
Sebastian
I don’t know why I follow her into the Uber.
Back to her place.
Up to her room.
She’s not the girl I met in Vegas.
She barely said anything all night, and she’s even more silent now, if that’s possible. Didn’t say a word the whole way to her apartment, even when the Uber driver swerved and she landed on me. She only giggled and pushed back to her side.
The Kendall I knew would’ve at least flipped him off, cursed, scowled—anything other than giggle like a teenage girl getting her tit grazed for the first time.
And the way she flirted with that other guy right in front of me, on purpose, with the intention to hurt me? Make me jealous? I wanted to punch his perfectly white teeth out of his mouth, hoping he’d choke on them.
Especially when she called me her boyfriend like it was a joke to her. I haven’t dated anyone seriously or been called “boyfriend” since Joelle, and then Kendall made a joke of it so easily.
To avoid causing a scene, I went out for air, not expecting her to follow me. Instead, I expected that to be it. To move on from the short-lived fantasy that my luck in the dating department had turned around.
But when she came outside, she tucked her hair behind her ear tentatively, almost shyly, and I remembered when I first laid eyes on her during my show. The way she watched me curiously and danced shyly with me on that table.
That’s why I followed her here. I need to know that the girl I met in Vegas, the one I’ve thought about nonstop for weeks, is real.
I need her to be real.
And I know she is. Underneath all the mascara and hairspray, there’s a girl wearing a wrinkled tank with a filthy mouth.
“Make yourself comfortable.” She points to her queen bed covered in a pale blue comforter with gray throws. When she leans on the open door and winks with too much effort, I know this is still just a game to her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait.” I hold her arm, not wanting her to walk away, even if it is just to the bathroom. “Come here.”
“You naughty boy.” She smirks. “Can’t wait any longer, huh?”
I ignore her comment that sounds whiny and fake, very unlike my Kendall, who is strong and speaks her mind. Even if she does so with her middle finger.
My small-town girl with city spunk.
I lower my head and kiss her softly, pulling her into my embrace. She stiffens at first, but I continue with my seduction. My hand grazes her cheek, savoring this moment with her.
Begging her to let go of the barrier she’s put between us.
She slowly relaxes, and I dive in deeper. My tongue explores hers as I pull her tighter, flush against my hardening length.
She moans in my mouth, and I almost lose my resolve, but I talk myself down. Right now, I need to take it slow with her. Let her know it’s just me. That she can be herself with me.
That I want her to be comfortable with me.
“Come here.” I take both her hands and walk backward toward the bed. The room is rather small for both of us, so it doesn’t take long before we reach the bed. “I want to see you.”
Her hooded gaze studies our hands intertwined between us. She moves her thumb over mine, sending tingles up and down my whole body, but again, I refrain.
She nods and pushes me gently back, pulling her leg to one side of me.
I shake my head without breaking eye contact and rub her thigh before I place it back on the floor. “Strip for me. Let me see you.”
Her lips purse at my request. “What’re you talking about? I’m right here.”
Shaking my head, I push myself up against the headboard, the distance welcomed as I try to regain my composure. Her presence is too intense to bear. She watches me curiously, uncertain. “Let me see you.”
She nods slowly, mulling over my words as I beg to hold on to any small bread crumb that led us here. She doesn’t immediately move, seemingly debating whether to make this—us—real.
Her mouth falls slightly open as she steps away from the bed. As her clothes fall to the ground, her shoulders relax. Little by little, the more items she removes, the more figurative layers she peels back, slowly removing the mask she wore all night.
When she stands bare in front of me, her arms twitch by her sides, wanting to cover herself up, but I pin her with my gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper before she climbs into bed with me. I push her hair back and kiss her tenderly, before I devour her, removing my own clothes with her help.
And when she moves on top of me moments later, she’s unrestricted and unfiltered, moaning as the pleasure takes her over, especially when I grip both her hips and move her back and forth on me, causing more friction for her.
I want to make this good for her. To take care of her needs, so she knows I’m not just here to get mine and leave.
I’m here for her. All of her.
I tell her with every touch, caress, and thrust that I want her.
I take my time with her, emphasizing every move while my dick aches to find its release. She writhes on top of me, aching and needy.
I lick my lips at the sight of her this way, but I can’t take it any longer. I roll her over, hovering above her. Pulling her leg up to wrap around my waist, I sink into her at a new angle.
“Oh my God,” she breathes.
Gripping her leg behind her knee, I pick up the pace, this angle hugging my cock tighter until I’m ready to release, but I wait. I wait until she reaches her climax and really lets go, panting with my name on her lips.
When she comes undone like this, her mouth agape and eyes wide—open—she really lets me see her.
And I love what I see.
Chapter 23
Kendall
While Sebastian cleans me up, his eyebrows are furrowed like he’s drawing a portrait of me and not just wiping me off. His tongue hangs slightly out as he admires his handiwork, his eyes running up and down my body.
Growing increasingly uncomfortable lying here like this, where he can openly see all my flaws even though it’s mostly dark, I push my legs together and sit up.
He comes closer, one hand on the headboard so he’s inches from my face. “You are gorgeous. I don’t want you to hide from me.” He gazes intently at me, my eyes and lips. It’s intense, and I grow even more uncomfortable than before.
Because I want to believe him.
But I know all too well not to get ahead of my
self, believing he could be real.
Shifting on the bed under his scrutiny, I try to put some distance between us like I’d tried to do at the club so I can think clearly.
Although I know he can’t see into my past, my poor life choices, his heated gaze suggests otherwise. I knew from the moment we met that his eyes were magic, that they see too much.
I’ve never been so intimate with another man. With my body and soul.
That’s what it felt like. Like when I stripped bare for him, I stripped away my defenses. And for the first time, I was able to free myself from the pressure of my ex, from Lauren and my parents, to be better, do more.
Be more.
But Sebastian accepts me the way I am. Not only accepts it but adores it. I could tell in the way he worshipped my body. It was slow, sensual—personal. Right up until the end, when I didn’t want it to be over.
It was beautiful and freeing. It was… overwhelming.
“I’m sorry about earlier tonight,” I whisper as he lies next to me. I lick my lips, tasting the way the unfamiliar words feel on them. I’m not normally apologetic in my actions or words. Not anymore. Not since Adam. But the words just fell out—even though I didn’t mean them any less. “I was kind of a bitch.” I fiddle with a loose thread on my comforter.
“No, don’t say that.”
I meet his gaze then, drawn by his firm tone, like he actually doesn’t believe I was being a rude bitch. “I have this… compulsion.” I hesitate, unsure of how to explain myself. But he needs an explanation, and after what we just did, he deserves one. “When it comes to being around guys, or people in general, I find it hard to be myself.”
He stays silent but doesn’t remove his gaze from mine.
“Like a game. It started when I first moved here. I wanted to reinvent myself. New place, new me, and all that shit.” I laugh, angry at how silly this sounds. At how juvenile I can be sometimes. It’s moments like these when I agree with my family—I am a disappointment.
He still doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes my hand. The gesture is all I need to continue; maybe I don’t sound as ridiculous as I feel if he wants to hear more. If he wants to know me better, unlike other guys who would’ve walked away by now.
“I formed a pattern, a routine that morphed into this game where I play the ‘cool girl.’”
I turn my attention to the window with a sad smile, remembering my ex’s cursing. How he wished I was more relaxed and chill, that I wouldn’t nag and go psycho on him every time he went out to the strip clubs. How he constantly made me feel guilty, even though he was in the wrong. “I like ‘cool girl’ because she’s in control. I like being in control. The last time I lost it, I lost part of myself that I never really got back.”
He kisses the side of my head, his lips lingering there, and it’s so sweet, it’s almost heartbreaking. I exhale, content. Content to be here with him because he doesn’t make me feel ridiculous or immature or like a failure.
I open my mouth to say more, to even tell him about my ex, where the whole thing started.
But before I can say anything, the front door to the apartment opens, interrupting our conversation. “That’s Emma.” I cringe. Of course, it’s Emma.
He nods, his gaze darting between me and the comforter and the door. “Is that my cue to go?”
I inhale deeply to steady my voice, my whole body still trembling with remnants of his touch and the way he listened to me. From the turmoil in my head and heart.
Should I let him stay or ask him to leave?
That is the question.
I want him to stay, but I need him to leave.
Sebastian Davis makes me feel things no other guy has ever been able to do. Even with just a fucking smirk, my knees buckle. With a touch, it all goes to Hell.
When he says I’m beautiful, the most dangerous move of all on a girl like me, I almost believe him.
When he scoots to the edge of the bed, ready to leave, I grab his arm and blurt out, “Stay with me.”
His face lights up, and his eyes narrow before he starts crawling back on top of me. “Ding ding ding, that is the correct answer. We have a winner. Would you like your prize now or in five minutes?”
I match his grin and put my finger up to my chin in thought, playing along with his game. “That depends. What is it?”
He runs his hands down his bare, sculpted chest. “This.” He flashes his gaze toward me as his hands continue down, wrapping around his hardening length. “Possibly this…”
I lick my lips and watch as he strokes himself. “Definitely this. And definitely fucking now.”
The words barely leave my mouth before he’s kissing me, bringing his tip to my entrance. He hums against my lips. “You’re so wet, baby.”
I nod, arching my back, ready for him to take me again.
He’s inside me with one fluid motion, peppering kisses along my neck, nipping at my earlobe. He takes it slow again, kissing and touching me everywhere until I can’t take it anymore.
After we both find our release, when Sebastian whispers against my lips, “Fuck, you’re perfect,” my heart stops with so many emotions.
He’s the breath of fresh air I’ve been waiting for, and now that he’s here, it’s better than I imagined.
I have indeed won a prize.
Chapter 24
Kendall
It’s dark, but I can see him scanning my room and the pictures lining the walls. He stops at the picture on my nightstand, the one of Lauren and me. My chest squeezes at the smiles on our faces, at what we used to have.
We’re ten in the picture, looking more like twins than ever. We were even wearing the same outfit, but mine was the gray version while hers was pink. Her arm is slung over my shoulder, pulling her little sister close.
On any other nightstand, this might be an adorable picture. On mine, it’s a reminder of what I used to have with my sister, my family. Only when we got older was everything ruined. It became about image and wanting more—being more—with her and my parents. Showing off. And since I didn’t have anything to show off, it made me the bad guy.
I held my breath for him to say something, wondering how I’d explain it to him. He doesn’t have siblings, so I’d only end up sounding like a bitch, as Lauren has eloquently put it so many times. And I already started the night off on rocky terms with my stupid game. Didn’t work in Vegas, and I should’ve known it wouldn’t work with him here.
“Did you and Emma go to the same college?” Sebastian’s question throws me off. He points to the picture on the board next to the window.
“No, but we visited each other a lot. Been best friends since we were kids. High school was a strain, but she was always there, you know?” I admire the picture, Emma and me with pom-poms at a football game. “We lived in the same town, so she was physically always there, but no matter what group of friends I was hanging out with that week, I could always count on Emma.”
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him so he’s spooning me. I feel him nodding against the back of my head.
“When we went our separate ways to college, I didn’t think we’d stay in touch. People lose touch, you know—they change. But actually, for us, we grew closer. She was my only good friend.”
“She always so quiet?”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t say much at the club. I thought maybe she was shy.”
I smile. “You just have to loosen her up, but she’s not as charming as me.” I poke his arm playfully.
He grips me tighter. “Charming? That’s what you call that terrifying snarl when I pay for your drinks?”
“Got you in bed, didn’t it?”
He pauses. “Damn, you did. No proper comeback here.”
I burst out laughing and turn to him with his arms still around me, his hand resting on my lower back. Face-to-face, I trace his tattoo as best I can since the only light comes from the moonlight outside. I exhale, relieved that the coll
ege conversation didn’t go far.
“Tell me more about college. Any crazy stalkers?”
Or not.
“No. No stalkers of any kind.” I smile as convincingly as I can, a large lump in my throat.
“Please don’t tell me you stalked anyone? You did, didn’t you?” He tips my chin up, and his wide grin and twinkling eyes at our banter give me pause. They give my heart pause. Even in the dark, I can tell how handsome he is.
And he’s in my bed.
Wanting to know me.
To trust me, and for me to trust him in return.
“Well…” I start, holding in my giggle at the way his jaw drops open. “Channing Tatum is from Alabama, so I always had to make sure when he came to visit his roots, I was there.”
“Channing Tatum, huh?”
“Oh definitely. I never did catch him—my stalking skills are rusty—but I never lost hope that we’d find each other someday in aisle three of the Piggly Wiggly.”
He turns on his back and laughs at the ceiling, his hand on my hip.
“It was going to be very romantic.” I shrug, taking in his playful form. How gentle and fun he can be like this, but how quickly he can turn animalistic when he’s inside me, his dirty mouth whispering to me as we move together.
“Guess you have a thing for strippers, then? Is that a good thing for me?”
I search his eyes, forgetting for a second that Sebastian strips for a living. Because when I’m with him, I don’t see the oiled-up dancer pulling his clothes off on stage. I see Sebastian, the warm, sexy hero of my romance novel.
“Magic Mike is one of my favorite movies. It’s especially fun watching it with Emma, the prude.” I roll my eyes, my finger still tracing the rose on his chest, the moonlight illuminating it more at this angle.
“She’s a prude and still friends with you? How does that work?”
“It’s called balance. Like having a salad at lunch and pasta at dinner—balance.”
He raises his eyebrows, and his teeth show as he smiles. After a pause, he turns to me, gripping my hip more firmly, his calloused hand on my smooth thigh. Tingles run up and down my leg, but he’s not being playful. His expression is more serious. “What aren’t you telling me?”
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