by Pamela Ann
As we strolled out of the apartment and onto the elevator, Spencer stayed close to me before leaning over to teasingly whisper, “If you’re aiming to scare me off, you’re not doing a good job at it, Chloe.”
Was that a challenge I heard? He was daring; I had to give him that.
“It’s just an underwhelming warm up. Don’t get too excited just yet,” I coyly responded, secretly liking this flirty banter.
“Let me clearly say that I seriously look forward to being overwhelmed.”
Merely shaking my head, I tried to ignore the fact that he was standing so close to me the entire journey from the elevator to even sitting next to me in the cab and when we got to the rooftop party. He wasn’t annoying in any way at all. I was just not used to having a guy so outright persistent on the first day I’d met him.
Jackson’s warning earlier didn’t deter him from staying close to me. Spencer was a proud snob, but he did it in a funny, teasing manner that somehow made it passable and not so offensive. It didn’t take a genius to pick the hints that his family was wealthy. It wasn’t necessarily off putting. I mean, I had grown up in Newport Beach, so being surrounded by money wasn’t a big deal. It was the way he made it known that he was well connected in politics and so forth that made it odd to me. I guessed some people appreciated that kind of conversation. I sure as hell didn’t. If this was his way of trying to impress me, well, he could think again.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Benson asked me out of the blue. He had just gotten back from the other table. Jackson was still there, engaged in some serious talk with a bunch of guys, including their friend Chris.
“Thanks. I’d love one.” I wasn’t of legal drinking age, but what the hell? This wasn’t my crowd, and I needed something to do other than look around and make small talk with Spencer.
“If your brother catches Benson giving you a drink, the shit will hit the fan.” Spencer smirked at me, shaking his head before taking a sip of his champagne.
Wait. What did Jackson have to do with it?
“What are you talking about?”
Raising his brow, he nodded toward my brother, who still happened to be consumed in whatever conversation that was taking place. “He warned us not to give you any alcoholic beverage … you know, since you’re not twenty-one. He’s just being a good big brother; that’s all.”
Typical Jackson, but he should know better. I had been drinking since I was sixteen. It wasn’t much of a mystery when I began to get curious inside my father’s wine cellar.
“Well, I’ll handle him,” I replied as I watched Benson approach our small, circular table. There weren’t any chairs anywhere, so everyone had no choice except to stand the entire time. It would be unfortunate for someone who’d worn uncomfortable shoes. It was a different kind of hell when you had to tolerate wearing shoes that hurt, but the beautiful design made it impossible to say no. I had those moments myself. Tonight, I was glad I had worn something that was easy on my feet, or I would have cried murder already after standing an hour.
“Thanks, Benson!”
He handed me a peach colored drink that smelled deliciously divine and looked like a martini cocktail. My eyes grew wide the second the liquid hit my tongue.
“Farrrk! This is hella strong.” Although the sweet aftertaste somewhat made up to the copious amount of vodka, I wasn’t sure if I liked it enough to finish it. Besides, I didn’t have much food in my stomach after that late lunch with Jackson, so I was in danger of getting drunk twice as fast if I wasn’t careful.
“What’s going on over there?” Spencer nodded toward Benson.
“They’re talking about a trip next weekend. They’re arguing about the destination,” Benson responded before retreating back to my brother.
According to Spencer, Benson’s mother was part of Jordanian royalty, but his parents had divorced last year. Chris, on the other hand, had a father who was a hedge fund owner who scammed people from millions of dollars. After the housing burst in ’08, his dad had apparently left the country and hadn’t been heard of since. It was unnerving to think that someone would do that when people trusted you with their investments, but stories such as these weren’t new.
“So, why did you choose NYU and not Columbia like Jacks and the rest of us?”
Wait a sec—
“Columbia?” I frowned deeply at him. “Jackson?” Had I heard him right, or was I already drunk?
“Yeah, woman. Slow down on the drink, will you? I wouldn’t mind carrying you to bed, but I’d prefer it if you were awake and half sober.”
“Dream on, Spencer.” I rolled my eyes at him. There was no way in hell I was going to sleep with him tonight. I was a major flirt, but getting me to have sex would take a good deal more than a few words and flashing your credentials.
While he resumed back to his fun, flirting self, my mind wandered to what he had revealed. Jackson was studying at Columbia and not NYU like everyone thought back home? Jackson wouldn’t lie about something like that, would he? Something wasn’t adding up.
As much as I would love to find out the truth right then and there, it wasn’t the right setting to ask. Besides, the peach martini was warming my tummy, and I could already feel the slight lightheaded effect of the alcohol in my system. Instead, I dwelled on my surroundings and the thriving liveliness of the party.
True New Yorkers did party differently than what I was used to back in Orange County. There was some sort of understated snobbishness when it came to this crowd, but as Spencer had stated, I would eventually get used to it.
I ignored the odd looks headed my way as they briefly spoke to their friend Spencer. Some, I imagined, were women he used to date, because they threw the iciest of looks. If I were sober enough, I would have taken offense, but I was tipsy and didn’t care one flying fark about any of them.
After my third drink, I was ready to call it quits. Glancing at where Jackson was arguing with a woman Spencer had identified as Yvonne, I thought there was no way he would willingly go home right then.
Too drunk to care about their lover’s quarrel, I took hold of my purse before placing the empty martini glass on the table. “I gotta go. Thanks for an interesting evening.”
“I’m coming with you.” Spencer began to stand up, but I placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m okay. Stay and party a while. It’s not even one in the morning. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He took my hand and held it in his own. “I’m taking you home whether you like it or not, Chloe.”
“Fine, whatever floats your boat.”
Spencer didn’t once let go of my hand as he guided me out of the building. In a way, I was grateful. I didn’t want to find my way around town to get back home.
Cabs were abundant since it was a balmy Saturday night, so it didn’t take us long to grab one and get dropped outside the apartment building.
“Thank you. I can take it from here.” I grinned before opening the door, but much to my surprise, Spencer did, as well. “What are you doing?” I asked him after watching the back headlights of the cab as it drove away into the traffic.
“I want to make sure you’re inside the condo; is that so wrong?” He threw me a look similar to what I had just given him moments ago, mocking me a little.
“Fine, but if you have any other designs, I’m going to kick your balls so hard you’ll wish you’d settled for good ol’ blue balls.”
He chortled before taking my hand once again as he led us inside the building and into the elevator.
“I think I like you more than I should, Chloe,” he murmured close to my ear as the elevator door closed to take us to the eighth floor. His breath tickled the side of my neck before I felt his lips graze my skin. “Go out with me tomorrow night?
Chapter Four
Spencer was so close to me that I felt a little breathless. He wasn’t the type of guy I usually went for, but I was attracted to him more than I cared to admit.
“
I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Before he could manage to say anything, the elevator dinged our arrival, and it wasn’t long until we were strolling toward the apartment door. My mind filled with uncertainties as I withdrew my hand away from his grasp, pulling out the keys from my purse.
Given how incessantly determined he had been, it didn’t shock me that he followed me in and closed the door behind him.
We were skirting around the hallway before he pulled me close to him. “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t enjoy my company tomorrow. Spare me the excuse about Jackson. I can talk to him about it.” Seeking my eyes, he ran his hands softly against my shoulders, pulling me a tad closer. “You can’t deny we have something here, so why don’t we just have a little fun and see where it’s heading?”
I had dated before and after that night happened with Drew, but he was the only man I had been intimate with. More importantly, aside from Spencer being Jackson’s friend, I didn’t know him well enough to spend a night alone with him. Therefore, I was skeptical, and with good reason.
“Some other time, perhaps.” Pressing my lips together, I made a slight smile. “Tomorrow’s just … too soon for me.”
He let out a sigh, as if he didn’t want to pressure me further, before pulling me against his chest. “All right, I’ll back off for now, but promise me you’ll think about it?” he whispered close to my ear, making me shiver against his warmth. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good.”
The alcohol in my system made my sensitivity even worse.
“Umm…” A haggard sound came out of my lips, my resolve weakening every second he let his breath touch my skin. Then I felt him kiss the soft spot behind my ear, evoking a low moan from me.
“Nice of you to see her home.” Drew’s distinctive voice echoed throughout the hall, stopping us both cold.
Spencer took a deep breath, hesitating a few seconds before he spun around to face Drew. “Uh, yeah. Of course.” He quickly glanced back at me then quickly reverted back to him. “Can we get some privacy?”
Nervously biting my lip, I couldn’t for the life of me look at Drew. I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t ashamed of anything, but for some peculiar reason, I just couldn’t bear it.
“If you plan on getting laid tonight, you can scratch that idea, Spencer,” Drew said in a measured but threatening voice.
I wanted to die, simply because he had no right to intrude on us. And the way he was acting about it was like a damn ogre. Hell, Jackson wouldn’t even dare react this way, so why should he?
Spencer was not too amused by being told what to do.
“What the actual fuck? Who do you think you are?” he spat out.
I could literally hear a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode any moment.
My eyes flickered back and forth, knowing Drew wasn’t backing down, either. One thing I knew about him was that he wasn’t the type to be easily intimidated, most especially since he was twice the size of Spencer and several inches taller. So, no, Drew wouldn’t even think twice about knocking him out. I had seen him engaged in brawls before, and he always came out the victor.
“I’m someone who cares about her. She’s family. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister, so I’m not going to let some drunk kid do some sloppy drunk shit around here. If you want to fuck around, go ahead, but it sure as fuck won’t be with Chloe.”
A sister? Was that what he said? What the actual fuck? How insulting could he fucking be! Unbelievable.
Spencer was getting so heated I was afraid a fight was going to break out. Thank goodness it didn’t. Instead, he gauchely looked at me.
“I’ll see myself out. I’ll call you. Have a good night, Chloe.”
Before I had the chance to say a damn word to him, he was out the door. What the fuck had just happened?
“If you plan on chasing the fucktard, you can think again.” Drew’s hardened voice broke through my jumbled thoughts.
I was not amused. Far from it. How dare he act as though he had treated me any differently? Well, the claws were definitely out.
“I’m the closest thing you have to a sister?” I screeched at him, livid beyond measure.
His frown deepened as he took in my hysteria. “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”
It came out wrong? How many ways could one interpret the word sister? I was enraged more by the fact that I had spent so much time piecing myself together, all due to a man who deemed me the closest thing to a sister he had. It was so laughable even Hollywood couldn’t come up with something like it. I wanted to cry from embarrassment, to hurl something at him, to punch something, anything that inflicted pain, because this was the biggest blow any woman could receive. The least I interacted with him, the better.
“Next time, don’t try to cock block. I can make decisions for myself. Go fuck yourself, Drew Cavendish.”
“I have every right to. Spencer is garbage.” Oblivious to the pain he’d just inflicted upon me, he stepped closer into my domain, choking me with his proximity.
“Jackson didn’t seem to mind.” I wanted to push him off, but I couldn’t gather enough strength to fight him.
“Well, maybe he should ’cause that guy doesn’t deserve you. So get mad all you like, but I did the right thing.” His tone grew deeper as he advanced farther onto me.
Much to my utter dismay, I stepped backward until I managed to hit the wall and tried to appear less than unsettled. “You’re being ridiculous! In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m a grown woman. I can do whomever I feel like without needing approval from you or from anyone. Besides, you’re one to talk. If Spencer is garbage, what does that make you? Oh, right, I forgot—”
“A bastard,” he nonchalantly supplied. “I think that’s the word you’re looking for.” “I’m sorry.” I rushed to apologize, but I knew the damage was irreparable. My anger had gotten the best of me. I knew better than to bring up something so rottenly vile from his past.
He had grown up being taunted and labeled by our peers and the people who knew the story of his parents. His father had walked out on him and his mother when he had only been two years old. His mother was from a famous family, so it was hard for the lewd gossip not to spread like fire.
“I shouldn’t have. You know I would never mean to hurt you like that, not even when I can’t see straight from being angry at you.”
“Whatever I do that infuriates you, remember I’m doing it for you, Chloe.” Although his words came out low, I could feel the tension coming off him in waves.
How had I turned into this hateful person? It was a subject my family was adamant to never speak about. In our home, he was always protected and safe. He had grown up knowing no one would bash him for something he had no control over. Yet here I was, and my guilt wouldn’t let me off so easily.
“Drew …” I captured his face in my hands, needing him to see how remorseful I was. “Forgive me. I swear to you—to God—that I never thought or saw you like that. You were always just Drew to me. Please, I’m so sorry.”
It was difficult to gauge what he was thinking at the moment. His eyes were deep-rooted in an inner turmoil.
The silence stretched while those blue eyes flickered about my face, slowly drawing me in, gradually drowning me in their powerful depths. Whenever he remained in deafening silence, I never failed to feel discombobulated. It wasn’t as much the silence as the way his eyes would spark fire. Each time they did so, they ignited something within me, flaring a part of me that I had tirelessly worked to hide.
“Say something.”
“You always look so beautiful when aroused,” he rasped out in such a low tone I could barely catch his words.
Licking my lips, I held my breath as my eyes withdrew from his magnetizing hold, downcast. “I’m … I’m not.” He knew better. He always did. That was probably why he had slept with me that one night—just to end my agony. I had eyes for no one but him … until he had calculatedly broken my heart. Tha
t was when I had known I had to use my mind to fight my heart with everything I had until it became nothing but a memory. However, until such a pleasant time happened, there was no choice other than to be unceasingly guarded whenever he was in question.
He tsked. “I remember you and this body all too well. Do us both a favor and spare me the lies.”
“Maybe you should do us both a favor and stop tormenting me,” I retorted.
Just like he had before, he caged my body with his own, placing a hand on each side of my head. His lips barely grazed my forehead, and all I could do was shut my eyes and ride this overwhelming rush of euphoria as it sent my body into a state of spine-tingling tremors.
“What do you suggest I do, Chloe?” he croaked out against my skin. “Why would you wear such a short skirt? A guy can only think of lifting it up and feeling how moist you are for him…or how that skirt will look riding up your stomach while he fucks you raw. So tell me, what do you suggest I do?”
Was he asking permission to do such things to me? I couldn’t be sure. Nothing was making any sense. The only thing that did was how my body was reacting to him. He hadn’t touched me, yet my thong was drenched from the mere sound of his voice and the way he was uttering and delivering his words that oozed sex everywhere.
His labored breathing made me desperate, but I wasn’t quite sure for what exactly.
“Is that what you saw earlier … before you interrupted us?”
He was a mystery I wanted to solve. It was as though he was fighting the same urges I was battling with myself. As much as I liked to believe I would have the capacity to decline his advances, I knew, with a little persuasion, I would eventually give in. He could take me however he desired, even if I knew the consequences would be too great to overcome.
“Let me just say that I wouldn’t be able to watch as you have done with me.”
Oh, my fuck. He knew! Oh, God.
“Anyone would have since you didn’t have the decency to keep things private.” My mind immediately recollected those indecent images, tormenting me as they evoked a wide range of emotions.