by Kira Graham
I’m going to try, and if I crash and burn, then so be it.
Paris is sitting on the side of my messy bed when I walk into my big bedroom, which is decorated in shades of deep, bright blues and soft creams. He’s wearing his pants and bent over tying his shoelaces when I sidle around the bed, placing his coffee cup and plate of cold Pop-Tarts on the bedside table. When he glances at me and straightens up, I see an expression that makes my stomach dip but keep my face as calm as possible and smile seductively down into his hard eyes.
“Leaving before coffee and breakfast?” I ask, taking a sip of coffee to hide my trembling bottom lip from his hard stare.
Paris grunts, and I watch his eyes travel over me before he reaches over to pick up his cup and take a sip of the coffee. It’s bitter and black, just the way he likes it, and somehow, that thought makes my courage settle enough that I lean over at the waist, giving him a clear view down the gaping shirt as I slowly kiss him, swiping my tongue over his lips before pulling away to straighten up with a teasing smile.
“You’re wearing my shirt.”
Huh. I expected a little more than that monotone observation, but I roll with it and decide to give him some leeway. I am in a good mood, after all.
“Aw, you noticed,” I preen, smiling like a maniac as I stroke a hand down the soft silk and bite into my lip provocatively. “It’s a perfect fit for some Saturday morning lazing before more sex.”
Paris goes still and swipes a hand through his hair before carefully setting down the coffee mug and getting to his feet, his much taller frame towering over me. He doesn’t step closer, but I can feel the heat coming off him as he stares down at me, a frown on his face. Gosh, he’s handsome, I think, taking in his dark, messy hair, his chiseled stomach, and the tattoo that curves over his shoulder and just peeks onto his chest. I licked that dragon last night, as well as many other places—
“I need it back,” he finally grates, his jaw clenching when I force a smirk and allow my eyes to go languid.
Slowly, I unbutton the shirt, giving him small glimpses before I drop my hands and stand before him, daring him not to look. One of my nipples is just peeking out, and I’m disappointed when his eyes stay fixed on mine, a tic pulling at his jaw. I’m not discouraged, though, and maintain my smile as I shrug out of the shirt and catch it behind my back.
“Come and get it, then,” I tease, the smile getting harder to hold when Paris grimaces.
I’m not the self-conscious type, and I like my body the way it is, even if it is a little softer than it once was, thanks to the ugly-ass boot that makes working out a nightmare for me. He seemed to like all my curves just fine last night, I remind myself, keeping my shoulders back confidently.
“Stop playing games, Sinai. I need to leave.”
Uh, okaaaay. Well, this isn’t going like I thought it would. Where’s the mischievous guy who’d walk into the bathroom while I was in the shower and laugh his ass off when I flipped my lid? Where’s the man who’d stare at my chest for hours and grin when I called him a pig?
“No morning-after coffee and cuddle?” I ask, keeping the hurt out of my voice and reminding myself that it doesn’t matter if he’s being a dick.
It’s my turn to work for it, as Rosetta has reminded me. I may have been set on moving past this man, but after last night, I am now more than convinced that we belong together, and I want to try for more than just one night of steamy sex. Sue me for changing my mind if you want to, but I’m not going to give up just because he’s acting like an asshole.
“I have to go to work.”
Those six words, said in a soft, emotionless voice, cut me a little before I shore up my resolve and shrug, dangling the shirt in front of him from one of my fingers. I know what he’s saying. Six words that translate from, “I have to go to work,” to, “It’s you, not me, and I need to leave now that I’ve gotten what I wanted.”
That translation is more than six words, I know, but sometimes you have to expand for the sake of context. My heart doesn’t like it, but my mind relishes the challenge, and I smirk and toss the shirt against his chest, ambling towards the door and praying that Tee doesn’t have anyone here as I walk out naked, pausing at the doorjamb to look back at him with a naughty smile.
“That’s too bad, Hart. I was totally going to make a Saturday in bed worth your while. Oh well, I guess we can catch up later,” I sigh, my smile turning wicked when he shakes his head and tells me that this was a one-time deal.
I shit you not. He actually says those words while I’m showing him my birthday suit. Huh. Poor, naïve fool. Does he think that I’m just going to let him blow me off after this? I wonder, turning to lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, my folded arms plumping up my boobs and hiding my nipples.
“One time, huh? You sure about that? Nothing more to tempt you?” I ask, keeping my pose relaxed as I watch him pull his shirt on and button it up.
When he’s done, he lifts a Pop-Tart, eats the thing in two bites, and downs the rest of his hot coffee, his gaze never leaving mine.
“What more could I want? Well, Pop-Tarts aren’t exactly my thing. Next time, try something else. Cook a man a meal—offer something more worthwhile,” he taunts, his words hitting their mark enough that I suddenly want to cover myself.
I don’t. Somehow, I manage to smile and meet his eyes.
“I think I love you, Hart. That seems more than worthwhile to me.”
“Love me?” he asks, barking out an incredulous laugh that I find funny enough to smile about. “Suddenly, you love me?” he asks, and this time, the laugh isn’t incredulous or amused; it’s filled with disbelief and disdain.
Thank God that I’ve been raised to believe that I’m awesome, or my ego would definitely be taking a hit right now. It’s already a little scraped, I admit, but not enough that I lose the smile or crawl away deterred, in order to lick my wounds. Oh, Hart, Hart, Hart—you are so going to regret this one day, I vow, a small kernel of loving revenge unfurling inside me.
“Not suddenly, no. In fact, I kinda fell for you the first time you came over here after I got the flu, and you tried to look after me. You gave me a bath and fed me that awful instant chicken soup, remember? And I fell even harder when I broke things off with Cole, but, like I told you then, it just wasn’t the right time,” I sigh regretfully, with another shrug.
That pisses him off, and I am enough of a bitch to find it amusing that he gets hard from the memory of that bath, even while he’s still glaring at me. Poor guy. I have good boobs. What can I say?
“The right time? Destiny doesn’t bother with time, Sinai, but as I’ve come to realize, I was all wrong. In a way, you saved me. If you hadn’t slapped me down when I kept going after you, I’d actually be with you right now.”
“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” I ask, losing my smile when he nods his head.,
This conversation isn’t exactly going the way I planned, and, to be honest, there’s so much more that I want to say, but from the way that Paris is grinding his jaw, I’d say that I have less than a full minute to get out what I need to. It’s a shame, really, because with that hard-on and the way that his eyes can’t help but flick to my boobs, more than a minute would most likely see us back on that bed.
“It is when you consider what I just heard.”
My blood runs cold at the thought of his knowing all my personal business, but it’s not like we wouldn’t have had this conversation eventually. I mean, if we do get married and want children some day, I’ll need him to pump into a cup so that we can mix our stuff together and then impregnate Tee with it. Ahh, so romantic.
“What did you hear? Did you hear me giving Tee a blow-by-blow, detail-riddled account of last night?” I ask, smirking when he curses. “It’s just awesome that I got to shock her with your wild moves.”
“Funny. But no—I’m referring to your little confession of love. I don’t believe it, and even if I did, that would make whatever you have in your head even more
unlikely. Understand this, Sinai: I am not ever going to let myself love you again. I did that once, and I got kicked in the balls. That being said, last night was…closure for me. We had sex, it was good, and now we can move on and forget that there was ever anything between us.”
Arrow to the heart! If I were at all sensitive, my feelings would really be hurt right now. Lucky for Paris here, I am not sensitive, and any feelings that I do have are concentrated solely on planning our future together.
“That’s going to make your wedding vows really hard to write,” I muse, smiling when he curses, leans down to grab his jacket, and storms past me.
I laugh as he storms right out of the apartment and slams the door behind him, and I’m still laughing when I hear Tee’s door open—before a familiar male voice drawls from behind me, that is.
“Nice cheeks, sweet thang! But I don’t think that my brother would be too happy with me seeing your ass.”
Whipping around, I belatedly realize that I’m naked, hence Ares’ drawl, and scream bloody murder as I cross my legs, slap my palms over my boobs, and hop backwards into my room, somehow kicking the door closed to the sound of Ares’ and Tee’s laughter.
“Dammit. You didn’t see a thing,” I yell, moaning as I flop back onto my bed and clutch at my leg with a quiet hiss of air.
“Nice boobs, too! I’ll be sure to remind him of that regularly so that you get yourself some sweet wedding vows!”
I should be mortified, but instead, I smile and decide that I’m going to hold him to that.
Chapter Fourteen
Sinai
“Would you shut up?” I hiss, my nerves jangling as I belly crawl through the hedge and come to rest behind a set of bushes just within the boundaries of the garden at the Hart family home.
Normally, my feelings would be shattered to realize that no one saw fit to invite me to this little garden soiree, but I’m not taking it too personally since I already know that Paris refused to attend if his mom invited me. She called me to apologize for him and promised to make it up to me by cussing out whatever whore Paris might bring to this little shindig.
The weather is heating up, thanks to the early spring that’s rolling in, and the sun is likely burning freckles into my skin as it beats down on my shoulders, baking me inside the camo gear that Rosetta “just happened to have on hand” for this mission.
“I will not shut up. This is ridiculous. These people are our family, and here we are, sneaking onto their property like thieves,” Cleo whines, prompting me to hiss at Tee because she’s the one who made me bring Cleo with us in the first place.
Alex would be cooler, and Rosetta would be the gold standard, but those two traitors are actually attending this get-together as we speak. Okay, fine—so I couldn’t expect Rosetta, who is pregnant, and Alex, who is knocked up again as well, to belly crawl through what felt like a mile of trees in order to get here, but still. I’m disappointed that the only partners I get for this are Cleo, who won’t stop moaning, and Tee, who thinks that this shit is a joke.
“I wasn’t invited, Cleotapra! Did you forget that I was not invited?” I ask, feeling as annoyed as hell when she grumbles about her invitation and the hell that she’s going to get from Adonis for skipping out on his family.
Like I care. All I care about is doing some recon, which isn’t easy when Rosetta keeps looking over here and giggling. And Alex isn’t helping, either, because she’s staring right at this spot, her brow furrowed, about to blow my cover.
I had to get this close, I tell myself, so that I could hear what Paris is saying to the blonde on his arm. The same blonde that he took to that restaurant. Two dates? He takes her on two dates, while I offer up my vagina for round two, and he says no! The injustice.
“Soooorry. Jesus, you’re so freaking sensitive lately,” she mutters, giggling when Tee crawls up beside me, spitting out grass.
It’s hilarious, but she’s got the grace of a bear on roller skates when it comes to sneaking over dry terrain. I will definitely enjoy looking at whatever photos our security takes of this later.
“Could we just drive in using that sweet recon van I bought that poses as the caterers’?”
“Hell, no. You know that Lovey would die before she’d hire caterers,” I scoff, my teeth grinding when I see Paris laughing down at the blonde.
I hate her. I really do, and I wish that she’d walk into something sharp and deflate one of her tits.
“I guess. But come on—I’m not in the military, and these clothes are like being inside an oven. I’m boiling alive in here,” she murmurs, her groans turning to a violent hiss when Ares saunters over to Paris and slings an arm over the blonde’s shoulders.
“Now, now, Nefertiti. You’re just friends, ’member?” Mindy whispers, finally having made her way over to us, her drunken giggles causing me to close my eyes and pray for patience.
Why, oh why, did I have to invite her? I ask myself for the tenth time, as I bare my teeth and threaten to rip her vocal cords out. She’s a damn disaster when it comes to being sneaky, and while a drunk Mindy is preferable to a sober, terrified Mindy, it’s really not a whole lot better in this particular situation.
“He’d better remember that himself—before he wakes up without his dick,” Tee hisses, causing both Cleo and me to sputter as we duck down as close to the bushes as possible.
This plan sucks, with about a million pitfalls, but beggars can’t be choosers, people, and I am definitely not in the position to have chosen a better way to crash this party.
“Why’s it bother you so much if you’re just friends?” Cleo asks, whipping out a box of chocolates that she doesn’t offer around.
Not that we wait for an invitation. She’s annoyed when we all pull our hands back, and only three chocolates remain in the box, which I can’t figure out where she hid, but I’m in heaven as I yank out my binoculars and train them on Paris.
It’s been a week since we slept together, and he hasn’t responded as well to all my gifts as I thought he would. Who sends a Ferrari back to the dealership, for God’s sake?
“’Cause he knows me,” Tee says simply, to which we all nod in agreement.
“Why’re we here again?” Mindy asks, her voice slurring a little as she drops her head onto her arms, looking as adorable as hell when her eyes fall shut and she passes out, drooling almost immediately.
Rolling my eyes, while Tee snorts and Cleo stuffs the remaining three chocolates in her mouth, I refocus on Paris and freeze when I spot him staring straight at me, as if he can see me.
“Oh, my God. We need to move,” Cleo hisses, as all three sets of our eyes land on Mindy, who is now out like a light and snoring.
I need to be a good friend right now and accept that I can’t just leave her lying here, passed out drunk, for people to find—not in camo gear, with security guys ready to shoot the first sign of a threat. So I do the only thing I can, and stealthily roll Mindy under the edge of the hedge, promising myself that I will come back for her later.
“Let’s move,” I whisper, following Tee as she scuttles along the brush line and behind a row of profuse and thick rose bushes.
We crouch down, and not a moment too soon, peering towards the spot we just vacated as Paris leans over the bushes, his frown turning speculative when he bends and comes back up holding a gold wrapper.
“Jeezus, Cleo!” I mutter, almost giggling when she titters guiltily and grimaces.
“Sorry?”
She isn’t, but then again, I wouldn’t be, either, so judging her isn’t something that I can do without looking too closely at my own actions. To be fair, I am currently infiltrating a party that I wasn’t invited to, just so that I can spy on Paris. Why we’re doing this, I can’t quite remember, but Tee assured me that it’d be fun. It sort of is, I guess. It’s the most fun I’ve had in months, at least, though it would totally be better if this were a dinner party, and I got to use Rosetta’s night vision goggles. Ah, adventure.
“W
hat’re you thinking now? We’ve seen what we came to see,” Tee whispers, her eyeballs blazing when she peeks at Ares, who is still standing beside the blonde, a mischievous smile on his face even as he tries to appear innocent.
For a guy who lives to keep the peace, he’s as naughty as they come, and I wonder again just how it is that he and Rosetta are “friends,” when they obviously can’t stand each other half the time.
“Yeah. I guess,” I say sullenly, my spirit of adventure dying a slow death when Paris rejoins his date and throws an arm around her shoulders.
Killing her wouldn’t be fair. It’s not like this is her fault. No, the blame belongs entirely on the cheating bastard that I’m staring at while asking myself some very key questions. For instance, just how long-lasting would it be if I drugged him, tied him to his bed, and poured hot wax on his balls?
“We should go. Who’s dragging Mindy out?” Cleo asks, a muffled scream leaving her when a shadow falls over us, and we peer up.
Rosetta stands there grinning like a fool, sipping on a glass of water and nibbling on some of the marshmallow clusters that Lovey got Cleo to make for this party.
“Hey, bitches!”
“Would you go away?” I hiss in a whisper, my nerves going tight when Tee’s eyes go wide, and she starts to check out escape routes.
“Nah. This is the most fun I’ve had since I got here. You should totally know that Adonis spotted all of you crawling over the grass about five minutes ago, and he’s started a pool already. Oh, and Honey called security,” she drawls, laughing uproariously when I go stiff and gulp loudly.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God—we need to leave. You don’t understand. I made a bet with Adonis, and if I get caught committing another felony, then he’s taking me to Vegas. Move, move, move,” Cleo hisses, her ass moving so fast that I’m still blinking when the idiot manages to slither across the expanse of lawn, behind the hedge, and into the trees.