Lipstick Kisses : A Sexy, Standalone Contemporary Romance

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Lipstick Kisses : A Sexy, Standalone Contemporary Romance Page 21

by C. C. Cartwright


  I’m such a dreamer.

  *****

  I haven’t heard a word or gotten a single text from Justin since we’ve been back from Carmel. I try to throw myself back into school, as that’s where my focus should be anyway. It’s a good thing he never contacted me. He would just be an unwanted distraction.

  Unwanted? Yeah, right. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than I’ve wanted Justin Harlow. I’ve pined after him for years. Who am I fooling?

  Now that I’ve experienced his kisses, his sensual caresses all over my body and his talented tongue in my most intimate places, I crave him.

  I just need to give myself to the next guy—someone, anyone—to erase Justin’s touch, which I can still feel on my body.

  “Kylie texted me. They’re already inside, in a booth toward the back,” I tell Bryce.

  We just arrived at the latest hot club in Hollywood, called Spin, and we’re meeting up with Kylie and some of her friends.

  Once we’re granted access, Bryce takes my hand as we weave through the dense and crowded club.

  As we make our way past the bar, which is situated in the center of the room, someone pats my rear, and I quickly turn to see who the culprit is.

  It’s none other than Justin Harlow.

  He looks angry once I see his eyes notice that Bryce and I are holding hands. Bet he thinks we’re a couple, and why should he care? We’re nothing to each other. He’s tried to make that perfectly clear on numerous occasions.

  Good, I will let him think I’m with Bryce.

  We find Kylie with her entourage of friends. I sit down next to her and start drinking from her Cosmo. I need to get hammered tonight and forget Justin Harlow even exists.

  “I’ll take a Cosmo,” I tell the waitress when she comes by our table. I really wanted to order two. Bryce is sitting next to me, and I lean in real close to him as he whispers something in my ear. I laugh at his joke.

  Ohhh, those Cosmos are starting to kick in and I’m feeling good, like I don’t have a care in the world.

  Then I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  I turn around in my inebriated state and see that it’s none other than the man I’ve been trying to avoid all night.

  “Dance with me,” Justin commands, holding his hand out for me to take.

  I look up at him and pause.

  Can I get away with ignoring him and pretending I didn’t hear him?

  Probably not.

  I place my small hand in his large hand and manage to get on my feet, but it’s a challenge between my stiletto heels and the three Cosmos I’ve had.

  Justin pulls me to the darkest corner of the dance floor, away from the prying eyes of our group.

  At least it’s a song I love, Get Lucky, and I start dancing my heart out. Justin’s eyes scan my undulating hips, and I watch his eyes undress me. I tease him as I turn around and grind my ass on his crotch. I’m a bad girl, aren’t I?

  His hands go to my hips and pull me against his rigid cock.

  How my body still wants him, his body, all of him.

  I continue dancing and rubbing up against him. I have no shame tonight. It’s dark, and I’m horny and very tipsy.

  It’s my turn to blame it on the alcohol.

  What’s his excuse going to be?

  Because he always has one where I’m concerned.

  “God Sloane, you are so fucking sexy. How can you possibly still be a virgin when you move like that? You won’t be for long,” he growls into my ear before he nips at my ear lobe.

  Damn, that’s hot.

  “Feel what you do to me.”

  He presses his rock hard shaft against me. His hands skate over my body, heating me up in the darkness. One hand skims over a breast and squeezes lightly.

  “I’m hot,” I gasp.

  “You’re damn right,” Justin says.

  “No, I’m really hot. I need some air,” I say, turning on my heel to go to the outside patio for some air. I’m suffocating.

  Once I get to the patio, I realize Justin has stuck to me like glue.

  “Justin, you promised me and yourself that you weren’t going to touch me again,” I practically slur out.

  “So, are you with Bryce now?”

  “With who?”

  “Your friend, your ‘study partner’,” he says, using air quotes.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The cool breeze sobers me up.

  “Are you with him? Has he gotten into your panties?”

  “How dare you ask me,” I cry, coming this close to slapping him across the face. I’m sick and tired of his accusations. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

  Justin’s incensed by my words. His jaw clenches and his eyes burn into mine. I have to look away or be burned.

  “God, Sloane, what is it about you that makes me want to make it my business?” he says, in a softer, questioning tone of voice.

  “I don’t know why. Why don’t you tell me?” I ask.

  “There you are, Sloane. I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought some thug kidnapped you,” Bryce says, glaring at Justin.

  “I just came outside for some fresh air.”

  The men stare each other down.

  “Let’s go. I’m tired,” I tell Bryce.

  I almost see steam coming out of Justin’s ears.

  “See you around, Justin,” I say, walking past him with Bryce following close behind me.

  Bryce brings me home, and I make it into my bed alone tonight.

  Justin: So are you with him?

  Do I even bother replying to Justin’s text?

  Sloane: NO. Goodnight.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Justin

  “Will you have dinner with me on Saturday?” I ask Sloane nicely, once she answers her cell phone.

  “Justin, we’ve been through all of this before. Let’s just be friends.”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

  “You should know me by now. I always get what I want.”

  “Are you saying you want me now?” she teases.

  For someone who’s supposed to be so ‘innocent’, she sure knows how to play the game and do the mating dance.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, but I want to show you on Saturday night.”

  I admit the cold, hard truth, and I’m met with silence on the other end of the line. I can almost hear her swallowing hard, panting for me.

  “Hello? Sloane, are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “So is that a yes to Saturday?”

  “I have to think about it. I’m not sure we should do this. Maybe you were right all along, Justin. Let’s not start something that will just end in heartbreak for me, ok?” she asks. She’s right. She’s smart not to start something with me.

  Why am I pushing for this now? Is it a conquest thing for me? Even I don’t know for sure. All I know is that I want her. She’s gotten under my skin and into my head.

  All I can think about is her. I can’t get her off my mind.

  “Look, Sloane, I’ve been fighting this for a while now, ever since I saw you at our first party of the summer. Then spending the week together under the same roof in Carmel was almost unbearable. I want to try and give you what you deserve. Let me take you out on a proper date on Saturday, please?”

  Damn, I can’t believe I’m fucking begging.

  Not a good look, Harlow.

  I’m met by silence on the other end.

  “What’s it going to be, Sloane?”

  “All right,” she replies softly, putting me out of my agony.

  “Wish you sounded a little happier about the prospect of having dinner with me.”

  “I feel it’s against my better judgment to agree to go out with you.”

  “We’ll have a good time. I promise. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “See you then. Goodnight, Justin.”

  “Sweet dreams,�
�� I say, wishing I were there to tuck her in tonight.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sloane

  What’s going on with Justin?

  Just when I decide to stop pining for him, stop hoping we could ever have anything real together, he calls to tell me he has decided he does want me after all.

  During our time together in Carmel, I felt like a human yo-yo. Back and forth with him. He’d reel me in and then push me away. I know he wants me physically—that much I’m sure of. The question is, for how long until he casts me away and moves on?

  Is it really worth a few stolen moments of passion, a few moments in his arms and in his bed, only to be left with a broken heart?

  “Hey, Emily,” I say, walking out to the living room and joining her on the sofa. She’s watching The Voice.

  “What’s up?” she asks.

  “Justin just called and asked me to dinner on Saturday. He said he wants to try and give me what I deserve, whatever that means.”

  “Hmm. I’m worried for you,” Emily says.

  “I told him I didn’t think we should go there. All that would happen is a broken heart for me. I was boldly honest,” I admit.

  “Yeah, I don’t know what to make of him and his intentions for you.”

  “My thoughts exactly. He was rather persistent, and I finally agreed to go, but I must admit, I’m a little nervous about it all.”

  “I don’t blame you one bit. So, I guess you’re going to follow your heart?” she asks.

  “I guess I’ll just go with it, see where it takes us, and throw caution to the wind,” I sigh out in resignation.

  I feel like I will be walking into the lion’s den on Saturday.

  Justin Harlow will eat me up and may spit me out.

  *****

  I take my time getting ready for my date with Justin. I’m filled with nervous energy and anticipation.

  I start off with a long soak in the bathtub to quiet my nerves. The steam rising off the water feels nice against my face as I breathe it in, willing myself to relax.

  Knowing Justin, we will be going someplace superb to dine, so I decide to wear a dress tonight. He seems like the savvy man about town who knows how to wine and dine the ladies, who he then takes back to his sleek bachelor pad to have his way with, no doubt.

  Just thinking about it sends my pulse racing. I close my eyes and take a few calming breaths. Sloane, get ahold of yourself. It’s just Justin, the boy you’ve known for over a decade. The only thing is, now he’s a man—one God of a man—who wants the woman I’ve become, I think as I admire myself in the mirror.

  Who is this self-assured girl, with the long, wavy caramel colored hair, the just-made-up face and the sweet but sexy smile? It’s me, Sloane Hart, and tonight, I’m going out with the boy I’ve been in love with for almost a decade.

  I’m in trouble, big time. I’m his for the taking, and he knows it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Justin

  I haven’t felt this much sexual tension, this much build up for a woman in I can’t remember how long. And I struggle to believe these feelings I have are for Sloane . . . Sloane Hart, the same awkward little girl who is Kylie’s best friend.

  Sloane has morphed into one incredibly sexy and irresistible woman. Her sinful curves and the enticing way she carries herself leave me thinking of one thing and one thing only—burying myself inside her.

  When I’m around her, I can’t think straight. I become an irrational fool around her. Whenever I replay that night in Carmel where I literally stalked her and her international Italian playboy, I cringe inside at my behavior that fateful evening.

  I can’t stand seeing her with someone else, but you knew that already.

  I stop at the florist to buy her a bouquet of flowers. After our rocky start, I need to woo her, get her to welcome me with open arms.

  I arrive at her apartment and park in front of her building. God, do I actually feel nervous? Grabbing the bouquet from the back seat, I head up the stairs two at a time. I need to approach this just right. I can’t blow it by making any sudden moves with her.

  I knock on the door, and within two minutes, she opens her door and steals my breath away.

  “Wow, Sloane, you look stunning tonight,” I compliment, eyeing her curves.

  “Thank you, Justin. Won’t you come in?” She greets me pleasantly, as if she’s now looking forward to our date.

  *****

  We pull up in front of Giselle’s, and the valet opens Sloane’s door for her. I come around to her side and take her hand in mine as we walk into the restaurant.

  The hostess seats us in a booth in the quieter room toward the back of the dimly lit restaurant.

  “This place is nice. I’ve never been here before,” Sloane says, glancing around the room, her eyes twinkling. I’m happy to bring her someplace nice for dinner and show her the finer things in life. She deserves it.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” I say, and I mean it. It’s not some line I’m giving her to get her in bed tonight.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Harlow,” she says. “Stop staring, please.” She giggles. “What do you recommend?”

  “Everything here is good. My favorite is their braised short ribs.”

  “Mmm, that sounds good.”

  “How’s school going?” I ask.

  “All right. I’m really struggling in one of my law classes. Luckily, it comes easily to Bryce, so he’s been helping me study.”

  “I bet he has.” I scoff, looking away. That guy wants her. I know it.

  “Why do you dislike him? He’s really a good guy.”

  “Yeah, whatever you say.”

  Sloane just shakes her head at me.

  “Did you tell Kylie we were going out tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Good, let’s keep this quiet for a while.”

  “Oh, ok, I understand,” Sloane replies, but I don’t think she really does. She looks a little hurt, as if she thinks she’s my dirty little secret.

  “Kylie and my Dad warned me not to take you out. They said you’re too innocent, too nice for the likes of a guy like me,” I admit to her. They’re right, I know . . . but I just can’t seem to resist Sloane’s temptation.

  “I take it you’re not heeding their warning?”

  “No one tells me what to do. You should know that about me by now.”

  “Yes, I know what an alpha male personality you have. You always want to be in control.”

  “So you noticed.”

  “The way you try to control who I date? Yes, I noticed,” she huffs out, looking adorably angry.

  “Well, that’s done with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You will only be dating me from now on. I plan on making you mine . . .tonight,” I say confidently, pinning her with my panty-melting smirk.

  Sloane pulls her eyes away from my heated gaze, and she flushes. She’s turned on by my words. I can tell by the way she shifts in her seat. I’ve rendered her speechless for a moment.

  “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she finally says, meeting my eyes again.

  “Always.”

  The waiter interrupts our exchange and tells us the daily specials, but Sloane takes my recommendation and orders the short ribs.

  “You won’t be disappointed with your choice,” I say after we order.

  “Are you talking about the ribs or about yourself?” she smiles wickedly.

  “Both,” I banter back at her quick wit.

  My eyes cast down, eyeing her delicious cleavage in her form-fitting dress. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into her tonight.

  “Justin, my eyes are up here,” she says sassily.

  I’m caught staring again.

  “I know your mom taught you better manners than that,” she scolds.

  “My apologies, sweetheart, but you look ravishing in that dress that leaves little to the imagination . . . and imagine I do.”

  “How are your parents?” she a
sks, changing the subject off her hot little body.

  “Good. They’re busy planning a trip to Europe.”

  “That sounds like fun. I’m hoping to go to Europe right after I graduate. Kylie and I have talked about going together.”

  “Oh, really? When were you thinking of going?” I ask.

  “June probably, or late May. Have you been to Europe?”

  “Yes, I went for a month right after I graduated. Had a total blast backpacking with some buddies. We hit ten countries. There’s so much to see.”

  “I want to see it all,” Sloane says, her eyes wide with excitement.

  Dinner arrives. We enjoy the food, the wine and each other’s company.

  “Do you know I had the biggest crush on you growing up?” Sloane admits.

  “Had, as in past tense?” I ask.

  “Maybe I still do,” she says, her eyes teasing yet seductive.

  “When you first started having ‘sleepovers’, as you girls would call it, with my sister, you were so young,” I start.

  “And giggling, immature girls, right?” she finishes my sentence for me.

  “Your words, not mine, but yes, giggling, immature pains in the ass.”

  “Hey, I take offense to that last comment,” she objects.

  “No, seriously, you guys weren’t that bad. I’ll admit, once you started growing up in high school, I did start to notice how hot you were getting.”

  “Really? All I remember is that you were hot and heavy with that cheerleader—what was her name?”

  “Rachel Adamson.”

  “Yes, that’s her. Whatever happened to her?”

  “I have no idea. I lost contact with her.”

  “Were you dating anyone in high school?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Oh, I remember now. A couple of my friends wanted to take you out, and when they asked you, you shot them down,” I say, laughing at my friends’ expense.

  “I’m picky. What can I say?”

  “What about once you got in college? Anyone special?”

  “No, I’ve just been sitting around, pining for you, Justin Harlow,” she says, all innocence, and I can’t tell whether she’s being serious or sarcastic. Probably the latter, no doubt.

 

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