“Because I’m irresistible, dick. But, no, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to let her live out a fantasy and then tell her I can make her dreams come true. If we have the whole weekend, then there’s no other way I’d like to spend it than helping Samantha discover all her filthiest desires. Think of us like her pussy’s personal Santa Claus. And hopefully, Samantha wants to be a very naughty girl.”
We all look at each other, smirks blooming until Alec lifts his glass, the rest of us following. “That’s my kind of present. Here’s to Samantha getting her stocking stuffed and coal for Christmas.”
five
“I think Samantha likes to be a dirty little slut.”
I type out the millionth text I’ve written to my sister since three a.m. when I woke up. Because who could sleep after that night? I’ve been overthinking and watching the snow fall and gather in swoops across the sky-high windows of my room.
Me: Wake up already. I could be dying. I kind of am, emotionally. I hate you. Not really…call me when you get this.
Me: for context…I got a little drunkie drunk last night, flirted with ALL the guys, then kissed one of them. Wearing only a towel. And I may have invited him to stay in my room. FUCK!!!! WAKE UP!!!!
Me: But like, he kissed me first. And he’s fucking hot. But he also said I was fired. Soooo…
Me: Do you think he was serious? Shit. I have him on the books for a remodel of his Napa house. Elle!!!
Me: Oh god. I can’t breathe. Wake the fuck up!! You have no life…how are you so tired?
I toss my phone back on the bed, pushing off of it to stand and pace. This is why I hate the light of day. Everything takes on a whole different dirty skew.
Last night, I had a sexy encounter with a broody alpha who told me I was a good girl. Fuck, that was so hot.
My thumbnail finds its place between my teeth. Because herein lies the problem. This morning, the narrative feels more like—I got too drunk, flirted with my fucking clients, and almost fucked one of them after he accidentally saw me nude.
I let out an inelegant grunt, tipping my head back before I pace again.
Oh, and let me not forget that I may have been fired so he could date me.
The last part stops me in my tracks as it has all morning, making me bite my lip.
Does Cole want to date me? No, right? But maybe. Do I want to date him? He did say, “Game on,” so that has to be what he meant.
Jesus, what is wrong with me? I may have been fired to pave the way to my pussy, and I’m smiling?
Feminism…who’s she?
I swipe my phone off the bed, holding it to my face. “I shouldn’t be left alone with my thoughts today, Eleanor. You suck.”
Fuck this. I can’t hole up in here all day worried about who I flirted with, and with whom I did…more. And I need coffee. Time to put my big girl panties on. Figuratively, because my literal panties are still wet, drying from the handwashing I gave them this morning.
I pad over to the door, pausing with my fingers on the handle because my stomach starts doing flips.
“Okay, here goes.” My lips purse. Or maybe not. Shit. Game face, Samantha.
“I got this,” I whisper again, scoffing before rolling my shoulders and bouncing on my feet like a boxer as I talk to myself.
“Everything is totally normal. And cool. So cool. Just as long as I don’t act like a horny weirdo and try to fuck anyone else.”
My eyes drop to the shirt I’m wearing as I halt my Rocky pep talk. Alec had left it for me to sleep in last night when he gave me the room tour. It’s fine. I mean, I couldn’t sleep in my clothes. Nobody will care if I’m in this.
“Yeah, cuz, wearing my boss’s shirt with no fucking bra or underwear sends the perfect message.”
I look back at my jeans, debating whether to put them on, catching sight of the clock. It’s six in the morning. Those guys drank so much last night. There’s no way they’re awake. And the T-shirt is long enough to cover my bits.
So I quietly pull the door open, peeking out into the hall, seeing that the coast’s clear before letting out a relieved breath.
Walking out, I’m as silent as possible, tiptoeing past the other bedrooms. From what I gathered, Cole and Alec are across from me. Reed and I share a wall. And Jace is on the other side of the house. Apparently, he talks in his sleep.
My nervous energy begins to fade as I reach the end of the hallway because it’s so quiet. That is until I hear humming…from a person…as I round the corner into the kitchen.
And worse, it’s the godawful song from my shower debacle.
Fuck my life. Back to my room, stat.
But my feet aren’t fast enough because Reed’s voice halts my retreat. At least it’s not Cole.
“You’re up early, sunshine.”
I pivot, smiling tightly, discreetly pulling at my T-shirt as every moment of our flirt-fest flashes through my head.
“Yeah…couldn’t sleep,” I breathe out.
“Me neither,” he says in that sexy deep morning voice guys get.
Good lord, he’s in gray sweats and a white T-shirt. Reed presses a palm to the counter, resting his hip as he takes a sip from his mug.
He looks like a coffee ad. Like one of those ridiculously beautiful men that convince you to pay more than you should on beans from somewhere exotic. When really, they’re just from a plant in Pittsburgh.
For fuck’s sake, I’m rambling in my own head. His hotness has evaporated my brain cells.
Reed places his coffee on the counter before running his hand under his T-shirt, rubbing his chest. It makes his abs peek out.
I can’t help myself. I glance as he keeps speaking.
“I kept having all these really vivid dreams. Want to hear one?”
I immediately think about the day I met him when he woke up saying he’d been dreaming about me. I swallow, realizing that I’m still looking at him.
It’s only a glance when you look away. This is ogling.
Whatever. In my defense, those abs are like a neon sign. Or the temptation that takes hold when someone tells you not to look at an eclipse. Everyone risks blindness at least once.
“You want some?” he croons.
My eyes dart back, boring a hole into the coffee machine. Shit. Caught.
“What?” I utter, blinking too fast and unconvincing of my confusion. “No, I wasn’t…wanting…I mean—”
“Coffee,” he cuts in. “Would you like some coffee, Samantha?”
The red on my cheeks is definitely trickling down my neck. Inside I’m screaming, but outside I point to the machine and explain, “No, I know what you were saying. I thought you meant ‘want some’ of yours…but I got it. You can never be too safe with meningitis. Right?” What am I saying? Stop. Talking. “Never mind. Don’t mind me. I’m all good.”
I’ll take awkward and socially inadequate for two hundred, Alex. RIP, Trebek.
Reed grins harder. “Cool, do your thing. I’ll just stay right here.” My eyes pull to his as he adds, “Since I’m partial to the view.”
His eyes take me in, pulling that damn bottom lip between his teeth, letting it drift out slowly. My face isn’t warm anymore, but other parts are definitely heating up.
Don’t look. Don’t flirt. Just act natural.