Noah hurt my feelings by ditching me tonight. He knew I didn’t even want to go to this party, but he said it’d be fun. That we’d have fun. Why wouldn’t I believe him? It’s not often he doesn’t pull through for me, but this time seems to hurt worse because he’s ignoring my messages on top of it all.
Dairen surprises me by reaching out and twisting a strand of my hair around his finger and tugging lightly until I have no choice but to lean toward him. “The reason he’s not texting you right now is because he’s currently got his cock buried between his co-star’s legs at his penthouse. Not out with you. Not making you moan his name. Want to know why, Addy? Because Noah Scott only thinks about himself. What makes him feel good. What’s convenient for him. And he always will.”
My body stiffens at his cold words, trying to come up with any other explanation.
There’s no way Noah would be doing that right now because we promised not to see other people during our little charade. Not publicly. Not foolishly. Not when we were messing around, no matter how little it was. I knew I was playing with fire when I agreed to that much, worrying I’d catch feelings for more than one Scott brother and ruin the friendship we’d had for years. But this? This could do just that if it’s true.
“And deep down,” Daire whispers, drawing me closer until our lips are nearly brushing. If he sticks his tongue out even a fraction, he could probably get a taste of the red lipstick painted on me. “You know that too. Or else you wouldn’t want me to kiss you right now.”
I’m quiet for a moment to collect my thoughts and try calming my racing heart that could easily give me away before my raspy voice finally responds to his crazy, but not untrue, statement. “Who says I want you to kiss me right now, Daire?”
He chuckles that cocky, knowing chuckle and lets his tongue dart out to touch my bottom lip to prove a point. “Sweetheart, I bet your tiny little panties are dripping for me. You don’t just want me to kiss you, you want me to make you come. Badly.”
Oh God.
This is not good.
At. All.
But I don’t pull away. I don’t make a move to tell him he’s wrong. Nope. I squirm in my seat because I’m so turned on by his words alone that I need some sense of release to relieve the ache settled deep in my core.
“Tell me no,” he challenges, his lips brushing mine in a barely-there kiss. A taste. That’s what I’m getting. And I want more.
So much more than I got the first time.
His phone dings in his pocket, making his jaw tick as he pulls it out. He moves away a fraction to glance down at it. “Would you look at that,” Daire muses. “According to TMZ, Noah Scott was seen looking awfully intimate with Brynn Myers as they entered his building earlier tonight. Interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
My breath catches.
He wouldn’t, I tell myself.
But knowing where I am, what I have with Noah compared to what I want with Daire, do I truly care?
Dairen chooses not to look up to witness the embarrassment of the situation inflated my chest. “She’s pretty, I’ll give him that. The way she’s got his hands on her tells me he thinks so too. Then again, we’ve always had similar taste in women.” He studies the screen before flicking his eyes back up to me. “I’m sure you want to see what I’m talking about. Here, let me—”
“No.” My voice cracks as I shove the phone he offers away. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and shake my head. “He promised…”
“Like I said, Adelaide. My brother is a selfish dick. He probably always will be knowing what a name he’s made for himself. So, tell me. What are you going to do about it?”
When my eyes meet his again, I know what he sees in my distant gaze. Defeat. I swallow, stare at my phone for a few seconds as if willing a text to appear from the boy in question before saying, “Let’s leave.”
He reaches behind him to pull out his wallet, slaps a twenty on the table, and says, “Let’s get out of here, princess.”
Chapter 4
Adelaide
* * *
This is a horrible, horrible idea.
The realization should stop me from climbing into the passenger seat of his royal blue Jeep, but it doesn’t. I blame the slight buzz from the drinks that I had on an empty stomach at the party paired with the humiliation of being ditched by Noah.
“You’re tense,” the driver of the vehicle states matter-of-factly as he slams his door shut. He turns to me, resting a hand on the steering wheel. “I can help you out with that.”
His low voice and cocky smirk as his eyes roam over my body make goosebumps pimple every inch of exposed skin. “Do you do this often?”
He turns on the ignition. “Hit on beautiful women?”
The compliment warms my cheeks, but I try hiding that by looking out the window at the lit-up street. It would have meant the world to me to know he thought of me as beautiful when I was younger. Or when I found myself knocking on his door after the accident that left him holed up in the city instead of out on the ice in Chicago with his team.
There’s a big difference between ‘beautiful’ and ‘pretty’, the latter something he never shied away from calling me when I was younger. I have my mother’s genetics, and she wasn’t one of the world’s best-known models in the ‘90s for no reason, so it makes sense that I’m pretty. My blonde hair is sandy with natural darker tints mixed in when the sun hits it, my marbled eyes are a mixture of blues and greens just like my mother’s, and my creamy white skin tans beautifully in the summertime.
But ‘pretty’ is something you call your little brother’s friend when she’s being picked on about her looks. It’s what you call your little brother’s girlfriend when she’s obviously crushing on you long before she defined a relationship with the other male that shares your last name.
Beautiful on the other hand…
That’s a whole different territory.
It changes things.
“I meant hit on your brother’s girlfriends,” I murmur.
The sound he makes is a mixture of a grunt and snort rolled into one. “I’m happy to report you’d my first, babe. You’re popping my cherry.”
My breath catches in my throat as my eyes bolt to his. “Do you have to be so crude?”
His amusement is obvious now, brightening his glazed pupils as he pulls onto the street. “Let me break this down for you, so we’re on the same page. I’m driving us back to my hotel so I can bring you to my room, strip that sexy dress off you, spread your legs, and eat your pussy. Then I’m going to fuck you at least twice. Hard. Maybe more if you’re not too sore. I need you to remember who was between your legs when you wake up in the morning. To remember it wasn’t Noah who was making your voice raw from screaming like he’s making somebody else do right now. So, if that’s me being crude, then yes. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“But Noah and I—”
“Don’t pretend it’s serious.”
Words die on my tongue.
“If it was serious, you wouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of what I’m offering. And that’s because Noah is in his room doing exactly what I plan on doing to you. So cut the innocent shit. You want me, sweetheart. You want me to do dirty things to you to get back at him for leaving you behind and sending second best in his place. You want this because you always have. We both know it. And I’m happy to help. More than.”