by H. M. Ward
CHAPTER 5
Fumbling the dish, it slips between my hands and lands hard on the counter. Emma is here, locked in her room. I try to be quiet. I don’t want her to know I am home. I don’t want to talk about Cole or what he did, or the threat he made. I’d go at him if I could, but I am a nobody. There are no socialites in my circles, no way to do any damage, no way to bend his arm to let me go.
The dish clangs on the counter. As I reach for it, the noise echoes loudly through the tiny apartment. Every emotion that surged through me that morning comes rushing back. Taking the bowl in my hands, I swing my arm, and send it sailing into the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, shards flying everywhere. Tears sting my eyes, and I finally give in and let them come. Burying my head in my arms, I lay it down on the counter, sobbing.
The music in Emma’s room shuts off and she opens her door. “Anna?” she asks, hanging her head out. Her eyes drift to the broken dish and then to me. I hate crying. I never cry and I’m near hysterical. “Oh my god. What happened?” She rushes toward me, not knowing what’s wrong. “Anna, are you all right? Did you cut your hand?”
“No,” my voice bleats between sobs. Raising my head, I look at her. I’m still wearing my tee shirt and jeans. I’ve taken off the tutu, socks, and sneakers. Tearstains chill my cheeks. “That dick screwed me. I... I tried to... And he...”
Emma starts looking me over like she thinks some jerk grabbed me on the subway. “No, Em! The interview. It was the interview! Cole Stevens screwed me over.” I finally get enough control over myself to tell her what happened. Emma listens to the entire story.
When I finish, she pushes a long lock of dark hair behind my ear, “So, he was mad? He did this to get back at you for wasting his time? Anna, that doesn’t make any sense. It seems too cruel.” I shoot a look at her, shocked that she doesn’t believe me. She smiles at me, knowing what I’m thinking, “Of course I believe you, but it just seems a bit drastic. You didn’t do something else to him, did you? Something that he’d want payback for?”
“Em, think about it,” I lean my head back against the wall, wiping away the tears that soak my cheeks. “I’m going to have to see him every day for three months. There were better ways to screw with me, right? I don’t understand what happened. One moment everything seemed fine—he was acting like he thought it was funny. Then he had the dean on the phone, and the whole thing fell apart.” I get up, grab the kitchen towel, and run cold water over it, before pressing it to my face.
Emma leans back against the counter, her dark hair falling over her shoulder when she looks at me. “He ruined your shot at Sottero?”
Clutching the damp towel, I nod. “What do I do? I have to do the internship to graduate. I need the experience to get a job. And without that internship referral from a prestigious studio, I’m screwed. There’s no way I’ll make it.” My lip starts to quiver again.
Emma takes me by the shoulders, and shakes me once. “Snap out of it, Anna. You have to suck this up. Here’s what you do: Hate his guts, do your internship, and then get the hell out of there. You probably won’t even see him. Interns are like Labradors—they fetch crap—and if you’re really good they’ll throw you a bone that’ll look good on your resume. Piss on his pants when he’s not looking, and chew up his shoes. Okay? You can do this. You’ve dealt with worse than this pampered ass. You can do this.”
Her pep talk floods through me and suddenly I feel really tired. I nod at her, mute. There is nothing left to say. I have to go through with the internship at the slut factory, but I’ll do more than be a nuisance, like Em suggested. I’ll find dirt on Cole Stevens that will destroy him.
CHAPTER 6
“I thought you wanted to intern with Sottero? How’d you do a one-eighty and end up at Le Femme?” Edward holds up his hands and grins, “Not that I blame you. Having a girlfriend who shoots at Le Femme is sexy as hell.” He looks me over like he’s never seen me before and waggles his dark eyebrows.
I elbow him in the ribs, and he laughs, nearly dropping his popcorn on the movie theatre floor. “Yeah, that’s why I did it. So you can fantasize about me shooting half-naked chicks all day.” I reached into my purse, fish out a tissue, and hand it to him. “Wipe the drool off your face,” I say holding the tissue out between my fingers. It dangles there between us for a second. I can’t keep my tone serious and I snort by mistake.
Edward pushes his hair out of his eyes and slouches back in his seat. His long lean legs are extended in front of him. There’s a soda between us in the cup-holder that’s built into the armrest. I reach over and grab some popcorn. Edward throws a few kernels at me and they get stuck in my hair. I stick my tongue out at him, and he lunges in for a kiss.
“Awh, gross,” Emma says and looks away. She’s sitting on the other side of me. Although she knows the whole story, she says nothing to Edward. I didn’t want to deal with his temper and if Edward knew what Cole did, well—I just didn’t want to deal with it—so I said I chose to work with Cole.
Emma says, “It’s bad enough you have to date my brother, but do you have to suck his face off in front of me too?” Em’s elbow bumps into my ribs and I choke. She effectively removed her brother’s lips from mine.
He grins at me, and throws popcorn at his twin sister. It sticks to her hair and she shoots him a look.
“Real mature, Edward.” She picks out the kernels and throws them on the floor.
We got to the theatre too early. Edward is like that. He wants to be in his seat fifteen minutes before the movie begins. Em and I would have walked in five minutes before, and as long as it wasn’t opening weekend, that works fine. There are only three of us, but Edward is a little bit of a control freak.
It’s funny, although I have known him for years, we didn’t get together until a few months ago. I took my one and only business class. It was about marketing. I thought that would come in handy one day when I had my own studio. The class had all business people in it, people who spent their entire undergrad time sitting in classes and absorbing the vernacular. Meanwhile, I was learning about shadows and shading in the art department. From the first class, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of words and concepts that I didn’t understand. Edward sat next to me and helped me figure it out. During midterms, we were studying and it was late. One thing led to another and his lips met mine. Since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what I want him to do to me with those sexy lips.
We lean our foreheads together and I smile at him for a second, thinking naughty thoughts. “I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper so Emma can’t hear. He wraps his arms around my shoulder and I lean my head against him.
Emma slumps down in her seat and rests her feet on the empty chair in front of her. It’s after ten and the theatre isn’t full. The lights fade and the coming attractions begin. A Le Femme ad is lumped in with some others. Edward and Emma are staring at the screen, no doubt seeing perfection that doesn’t exist. Rage floods through me when I see the ad. Cole’s perception of beauty doesn’t exist. It’s an ad produced for men, with a product aimed at women. It makes no sense and pisses me off.
Edward seems to sense the tension building in my shoulders. He mistakes it for something else, “Nervous?” he whispers in my ear.
I shake my head as the ad ends. Monday morning I start an internship that I don’t want, with a man that threatened to destroy my career. Nervous is the wrong word. Enraged is more like it. My mind swims with ideas, ways to get back at Cole for doing this to me. Come the end of summer, he’s going to wish he never met me.
CHAPTER 7
My legs are draped over the side of the bed. Edward has his hands on my shoulders, applying gentle pressure, massaging my tension away. The movie was good, but my mind was elsewhere. We came back to the apartment, and quickly ducked behind my bedroom door before Emma could comment on her brother being in my room so late.
Edward leans closer, his warm breath tickling in my ear, “I had fun tonight.” I smile abs
ently, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as his breath lingers.
We haven’t been together yet. The time never seemed right. Or maybe I just keep putting it off because I’m not sure that I want to have sex with my best-friend’s brother. That is a lifetime of awkward moments if things don’t work out. He’ll be picturing me naked in his mind, doing all the naughty things I like to do—things no one knows about—with that adorable grin on his face every time he sees me. I don’t know if I’m up for that.
Edward’s hands slide along my shoulders, his fingers slipping under my collar, tracing my neck with his fingertips. I close my eyes and shudder at his touch. He’s beautiful and funny, witty and smart. He’s everything that makes my heart race, but I still feel nervous about being with him. He doesn’t pressure me, not really, but he doesn’t stop trying to seduce me either. Eventually, I’ll give in. He knows it and so do I. It’s only a matter of time until I can’t resist him any longer.
“So did I,” my voice is weak, like I’ve been sleeping. I clear my throat, trying to bat away the butterflies forming in my stomach.
As I turn toward him, Edward reaches for my face and pulls us together. His lips are soft and hot. Gently, he kisses me, over and over. The kisses are so soft and sweet that I gasp. My heart is pounding. It feels like my head is spinning and I want nothing more than to feel my body sliding against his. I want to forget this day, escape it—with him.
I slip my fingers beneath his shirt and trail my hands up his hard stomach. Our kiss deepens as I do so, and he moans softly. I pull him tighter for a moment. His bare skin is scorching under my palms. I want to lose myself in him. I want to stop thinking, stop freaking out over what happened earlier. I was so upset and scared—terrified—that my future had been ripped out of my hands. I never saw it coming.
Edward’s hand cups my breast, his lips kissing me, making me hotter and hotter. He squeezes me hard and I gasp, wishing he’d do it again. As he lowers me onto my bed, his blue eyes lock on mine. Edward’s hands slide under my shirt and he pulls it over my head before my back hits the comforter. I lay in front of him with my hair splayed around me in long dark curls. I’m wearing a lacy black bra and jeans that sit just below my waist.
He sits above me, his eyes taking me in like he could never get enough. “You’re so sexy, Anna,” he says, and lowers himself on top of me. Edward kisses my cheek, then my ear, and starts moving down my neck. The heat of his mouth leaves a hot trail in his wake.
My body is strung tight—my back arches into his touch—into his kiss. My pulse pounds faster and faster. I’m so hot. The pit of my stomach has no floor. It’s fallen away with his kisses, and the heat between my thighs is completely unbearable. He feels my body shift beneath him, notices my legs opening for him. Edward’s fingers reach for the button my jeans and he slips it through the hole, then lowers the zipper. His hand slides into my pants, slowly pressing into my panties until I feel him hesitate.
Gasping, I say, “I want you. I want to feel you. Please, Edward. Touch me.”
He smiles that beautiful smile that I love and his fingers press against the bare skin between my legs. I slide against his hand, my jeans pulling tighter as his hand moves. Edward dips his lips to my breast and he nips me gently, tugging my nipple with his teeth. A moan escapes my lips. I’m burning up inside. I want him. I want to feel him. I want to ride him and be with him.
His fingers circle the tender flesh between my legs, gently rubbing and stroking until I can’t stand it. The heat flashes through my stomach as I arch my back, begging him to touch me. He slides a finger into me and I moan, pushing back against his hand. Teeth nip my breasts, and his tongue teases me through the lace bra. I gasp, saying his name. With one hand he continues to stroke me, making me wetter and wetter. My body moves against his hand, craving more. His other hand finds the closure on my bra and flicks it open. The lace loosens and he pulls it away. His lips kiss me gently at first and then harder, drawing my tender flesh into his mouth, sucking. Writhing, I come against his hand. He pushes into me hard as he feels me pulsate, his lips still on my breast. Every time his hand pushes into me, I moan.
Edward kisses me gently and pulls away. He jumps up and walks toward the door, “Be right back.” He grins at me.
Breathing deeply I watch him, wondering what he’s doing. I never let him touch me like that before and I didn’t expect him to get me so riled up and then stop. I thought this was foreplay, but he’s left me alone. Sweat is covering my body. The air feels too cold with him gone. When I look up, he’s standing in the doorway with a towel in his hands.
It takes me a minute. I’m dazed with a lust-induced stupor, but I figure it out and ask, “You washed your hands?”
He nods and tosses the towel aside, closing the door behind him. “Yeah. Why? Does that bother you? Most girls like that I want to be clean.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. My pulse is slowing, my senses returning. He just said several things that bothered me, but getting up and leaving me there to wash his hands was the worst. I can’t even process what he just did so I latch onto the obvious, “Girls? How many have you been with?”
Leaning on the bed, he drapes his arm over my waist, “Enough to know what I like. Enough to know I want you.” His eyes rove over my body like he’s still filled with desire, but the way he washed me off his fingers broke whatever spell he wove. The illusion is shattered. Maybe getting up and washing in the middle of having sex didn’t bother other girls, but it bothers me. I pictured my dream guy loving my scent, burying his face between my legs like he couldn’t get enough, licking me off his fingers and then begging for more. That isn’t going to be Edward. He ran to the bathroom before we were even done.
Edward eyes me lazily and leans forward, sliding his hand into my waistband. Placing my hand over his, I stop him. He looks up into my eyes. I can’t let it go. I have to know what I am dealing with. Is he mental or was this just a precaution since we haven’t been together very long?
I ask, “If you found the right girl, the one you wanted in every way possible, would it be different? Would you want the scent and the feel of her on your hands?” Would you want to taste her? Would you swallow? I wonder, too afraid to ask . The questions rush out. Suddenly, this conversation feels very awkward.
Edward sits up and withdraws his hand from my waist. He looks confused. I pull my shirt over my head so my breasts aren’t just out there.
He watches me carefully, knowing he blew his chances with me tonight. He runs his fingers through his hair, “It bothered you.” He breathes deeply, shaking his head like he’s annoyed with himself. “I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, it’s just that—”
I waive my hands at him, shaking my head, “You didn’t hurt my feelings,” the words are falling out of my mouth before I can stop them. It did bother me. It seemed like he couldn’t get me off his skin fast enough. I was offended, but my mouth is saying I wasn’t. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I just tell him what I want? I’ve only been with two guys and neither of them did what I was hoping for either. I am barely twenty-two, but I know what I want. At some point I started to think that the things I want are strange. And I can’t talk sex with Emma—not when it’s sex with her brother.
Looking relieved, he touches my cheek gently. “Good, I’m glad. I don’t know what it is, but the idea of having someone else’s fluids on me just makes me feel like I need to wash it off.” He shivers like it’s gross—like I’m gross—and my heart sinks.
I can’t look at him. The bedspread is twirling between my fingers, my voice soft, “So, you probably don’t like the idea of tasting me. There.” The question is in my voice. I sound frail, like his words could hurt me. Maybe they could. I want him to say yes. I want him to want me.
Edward notices my tone, but he misreads my question. “I’d taste you there. I could do that.” He doesn’t sound eager. “Honestly, the idea of you doing that to me is more appealing.” He fumbles his words
, laughing nervously.
I blink hard. What a dick. Did he really just say that?
Another question bashes me in the brain before I can think—why didn’t I notice this before?
Carefully, I ask, “So, I could go down on you and swallow, and you’d like that?” He nods at me, like he’s ready to do it now.
This is what I was afraid of, he doesn’t want to touch or taste me like that. It’s one-sided. We can’t do the things I want to do. Sex with him will be very limited if he doesn’t like sweat and other slippery substances. The pit of my stomach drops. This relationship wasn’t going to work. Damn. I’d asked him if he had any sexual preferences I should know about. Clean-freak didn’t come up. I lean my head back against the headboard and stare at the ceiling. I know there’s no future for us, but I can’t admit it. Things can’t be this way. Not again.
“Anna?” he asks, his hand sliding over my knee.
“Hmmm?” I can’t look at him. It feels like my insides have been carved out. I feel the loss of things I thought I’d have with him, things that will never be.
“I love you,” he whispers. My neck snaps and I blink rapidly, staring at him. My heart rate shoots up to stroke territory. A boyish smile forms on his lips. He doesn’t realize the effect of his words. “Just because that doesn’t appeal to me doesn’t mean that I don’t want you.”
My eyes are glassy. I feel like I’m going to cry. He loves me? But he’s too grossed out to show me the way I need. The way I want. I smile softly at him and he takes me in his arms, stroking my hair.
“I know I said it too early,” he says into my hair. His breath warms my throat. “But, I couldn’t let you think—”