Bad For You

by Parker, Weston

  “I’m sure you’d rather attend the events with any one of the younger, more eligible bachelors around. You wouldn’t want them thinking you’re with the old guy.” I pointed at my chest with my thumb. “If you ever need a friend to go with, let me know. I’ll be happy to introduce you around, and I won’t take offense if you meet someone more interesting while we’re there.”

  My mother scoffed. “Please, darling. You’re only a few years older than Faye. No one would think of you as the old guy.”

  Faye nodded along with my mother’s statement, but a faint pink flush had appeared on her cheeks. “You wouldn’t need to worry about introducing me around. I know everyone in our circles. There’s no one more interesting than you.”

  My mother gave her a pleased smile, but it melted away when she sent me a momentary but cutting glare. “Faye is very well positioned to reintroduce you to everyone around here. She went to North Hills Prep, like you should have, and as you know, the alums stick close together.”

  “North Hills Prep is a wonderful school,” I said to Faye before looking back at my mom. “You know how grandfather felt about it, though. Besides, that’s all ancient history. What’s good to eat here?”

  The restaurant was cold and impersonal, all glass and brushed metal. It was fine dining at its best, with upscale furnishings, art on the walls, linen napkins, and soft instrumental music. Waiters bustling around us carried plates of food that resembled works of art, and there was a sommelier at hand to recommend wine pairings with each course.

  Faye let out a soft giggle as she lifted her hand in an elegant, small wave. “Everything is good here. I know you’ve been away, but surely you’ve heard of Chef Ruben? People wait months for a reservation here.”

  “Unless you’re one of the select few”—Selena exchanged a smile with Faye—“like us, who have access to the VIP reservation system.”

  Well, at least that explained the random cluster of reporters with cameras hanging around on the other side of the large windows. They obviously waited there in the hopes of spotting any of the local socialites and quasi-celebs.

  “It’s the new place in town to be seen, huh?” I asked, a bitter taste spreading in my mouth.

  Faye, on the other hand, looked delighted to be here as she nodded. “It’s not that new, but Chef Ruben keeps finding ways to stay relevant. None of his competitors have come close, but I’m sure you know that.”

  “I didn’t, actually.” She seemed to think this chef was something of a rock star. “I doubt Chef Ruben delivers to any of the places where I’ve been recently.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She hid a giggle behind a well-manicured hand before giving another wave. “Chef Ruben doesn’t deliver.”

  “That explains why I haven’t heard of him, then,” I said dryly.

  Selena’s lips pressed into a line. “Well, now you’ve heard of him. Faye has very kindly offered to show you around town and to get you up-to-date with everything that’s changed since you’ve been gone. It’s very important to frequent the right places.”

  Only if you’re interested in being part of the society scene, which I’m not. “Thank you for offering, Faye. I don’t think I’ll have much time for lunching and socializing anytime soon, though. Work has been keeping me pretty busy, and I’m sure it’s not going to get any less time-consuming as I learn what I need to do.”

  Lunch only got more awkward from there, leaving me cranky for the rest of the day about what my mother was trying to pull. Faye seemed like a nice enough girl, and she was definitely eager, but I had no interest in her.

  Of course, the woman I was interested in didn’t feel the same way, but I still couldn’t get her out of my head. While Selena and Faye kept trying to find different angles for every avenue I shut down, I got more and more frustrated until I eventually made my excuses and left.

  Archer laughed when I told him my mother had tried to set me up but didn’t ask me much about it once our afternoon meetings started. We worked until well past dinnertime before calling it quits.

  Brittany was on my mind again by the time I’d showered and climbed in bed. So many memories of her had been plaguing me since I’d gotten back, but there was one I’d managed to keep at bay until now.

  It was one of the most perfect memories I had of her. One I’d replayed a million times in the years we’d been separated, but it wasn’t one I’d often had time to indulge in.

  Since the house was quiet, the lights out, and sleep didn’t seem to be coming for me anyway, I decided to let myself go there tonight. To the memory of the night of our prom, after the dance, when I’d taken her virginity. Afterward, she’d described it as romantic and magical, and I had to agree.

  We’d been young and in love. I hadn’t wanted to take her to some hotel like most of the other kids had done.

  As luck had had it, my parents had been around before the dance had started, but then they’d flown out to Europe later that evening. I’d brought Brittany back here, to this very room, and it had been an experience so intense it still got me painfully hard whenever I thought about it.

  Like right now.

  My hand snaked down as I closed my eyes, my breathing already becoming ragged. I’d covered the room in candles before I’d left. After fixing Brittany a drink to have on my balcony, I’d rushed back in here to light them all. I’d even strewn rose petals all over the bed and floor. It had been a bitch to clean up, but it had been totally worth it.

  We’d taken it slow. I’d committed the feel of every inch of her skin and the sounds she’d made to memory so well that I recalled it all effortlessly now. As I stroked my aching shaft, running my free hand across the flat disks of my nipples, I groaned when I remembered how it had felt to sink into her tight, wet heat for the first time—the condom I’d barely managed to get on from how badly my hands had been shaking the only thing really between us in that moment.

  I’d looked into her eyes, the blue dark with lust and slightly hazy from the two orgasms I’d given her before attempting to make love to her. My weight had been propped up on my elbows and my hands on the side of her neck and cheek when I’d broken through that final barrier between us.

  Her eyes had shone in the orange glow of the candlelight, her mouth forming the most perfect o as a furrow appeared between the brows. It had taken a while, but when I’d eventually felt her contracting around me, I hadn’t been able to hold back much longer.

  Just like I couldn’t hold back now. With a final thrust of my hips into my closed fist, pleasure rocketed through me, and I came with her name on my lips. The orgasm left me panting in the dark, so damn powerful that I saw spots as I lay there wondering if she ever thought about that night.

  It had been romantic, and sweet, and as we’d cuddled in this bed together after, I’d known I would never feel the same way about anyone else. Knowledge, it seemed, that had only grown stronger with time.

  12

  BRITTANY

  Bubbles came up to my neck in my bathtub. The lights were off, but I’d lit the few candles I had positioned around the edge and on my vanity.

  Candlelit baths always made me think about Tristin and the very first time I’d had one. It had been the same night I’d also had my very first time with something else, and I remembered how taken care of I’d felt when he’d gone to run us a bath after.

  His entire room and bathroom had been covered in candles and rose petals. I’d been so touched that he’d gone through so much effort despite the fact that he’d known I was a sure thing. We’d talked about it a lot and had made the decision together to do it that night.

  Tristin had kept checking in with me before, making sure that I knew he wouldn’t pressure me if I decided not to go ahead with it after all. It had been beyond sweet of him, but I’d been more than ready by then.

  In fact, I’d only barely been keeping myself from jumping his bones for months at that point. The only thing that had kept me sane was knowing that our night together would be happ
ening soon.

  And what a night it was.

  After having waited for so long, we hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. I’d been sore after the first time, but then he’d led me to his bath and had washed me with such attention to detail that he’d started fanning the fire all over again.

  In all my research beforehand, I’d learned that I might feel too tender to have him touching me again for a few days after. It hadn’t happened that way for me, not that night. I had ended up being sore for days after, but not from just the one time.

  Tristin might not have been that much more experienced than me at the time, but he’d made sure I was so ready that I’d been practically incoherent before he’d finally taken me. Afterward, I’d read up more about it, and it turned out that made him a very good lover—especially for a teenage boy.

  As I thought back to the way he’d touched me in the tub that night, my fingertips started stroking my thighs underneath the mountain of bubbles. I felt my face heating, resting my head back as the warm water wet the back of my hair when I lay down.

  He’d started by soaping up his hands, massaging my shoulders, neck, and arms before moving his fingers to my chest. My nipples had beaded under his touch, just like they did now at the mere memory of the soft pads on them.

  One of my hands came up to hold my breast, my breath quickening when I let my thumbs hover without brushing them across my nipples just yet. My other hand crept higher on my thigh, but I held off, waiting to be immersed by the memory completely before I really touched myself.

  It was always better that way, even if it still didn’t ever come close to what the real thing had felt like. Maybe it was just because he’d been the first person except for myself who’d ever given me an orgasm, but I still hadn’t experienced any quite as mind-blowing as the ones he used to give me since.

  I hadn’t even really done anything yet, but my hips were already rocking in little circles under the water as I strained for some kind of friction. It was exactly what had happened that night.

  Tristin hadn’t wanted to hurt me by touching me again so soon. His hands had been featherlight on my skin, but that had only served to ramp up my need for him by another ten thousand notches.

  He had been sitting behind me. I’d felt his rock-hard length against my butt. Felt his heart hammering against my back. But he hadn’t acted on his own desire until I’d practically begged him to.

  Even then, he’d been so darn gentle. His fingers had caressed me just as softly as mine were now, and when I finally let my hand brush against my clit, I moaned his name.

  He’d sucked in a sharp breath when the same thing had happened that night. His hips had given this involuntary little jerk. I’d reached behind me, wrapping my fist around his velvety length as I turned my head to nuzzle his jaw.

  When I’d looked up at him, his eyes had been closed and his lips parted, his head angled back ever so slightly. Seeing him like that had been one of the most erotic sights I’d ever seen, if only because it had felt so much more intimate to behold that beautiful agony on his expression after we’d finally been together.

  My core clenched around nothing now, my clit swollen and achy with the need to be touched. Soft slickness that had nothing to do with the bubbles or the water made my upper thighs glide against each other when I pressed them together.

  When I couldn’t take it anymore, I closed one hand over my breast and let my fingertip dance around my clit as I thought back to the way he’d looked that night. The sounds of his pleasure as I stroked him were in my ears when I started drawing circles around my hard nub.

  It didn’t take long before my ears were ringing from the strength of my orgasm, and water ended up sloshing out of the bath as I bucked my way through it. It was a darn good thing I didn’t have a roommate, because I could never keep myself completely silent while riding out those waves of exquisite pleasure.

  Afterward, when I’d finally cleaned up the bathroom and was in my pajamas, I paced around my room and debated calling him. I wanted to tell him that we should give things a chance. Maybe even admit that I was excited to see if we could work out as adults.

  But as I sat cross-legged on my cream-colored bedspread, staring at my reflection in the bay window across from my bed, my phone buzzed in my hand. I jumped at first, my heart in my throat since my immediate thought was that it might be him.

  It wasn’t. Shelley’s name was on my screen, and I could tell from her tone that something was wrong as soon as I picked up the call.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, “but I thought you should see this. I’m sending you a link now.”

  Sure enough, there was a beep in my ear as her message came through. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  She sighed. “Tristin Ramsey was spotted on a romantic lunch date earlier today. The photos are up online. I’m sorry, Brit. I wanted to let you know before you got blindsided with gossip at school tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” I said after pausing for a long minute. “How did you find out about it?”

  “I put a new alert out for Tristin after the library fundraiser,” she admitted in a soft voice. “From the way you’ve been acting, I could tell something might happen between the two of you again. I looked him up and found out his family was a pretty big deal around here, so I set up the alert in case our local press took an interest in his being back.”

  “Wow,” I breathed when I pulled the phone away from my ear and clicked the link she’d sent me, putting the phone on speaker as I looked at the article. “The girl he’s with is stunning.”

  “I know. I’m so jealous of her, and it’s not even my man she’s with.”

  Envy spread through me along with bitter disappointment that I’d missed my second chance with him already. “Same, but he’s not my man either. Not anymore, and by the looks of things, not ever again.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, her tone gentle and truly remorseful. “I’ll let you go so you can stare at the pictures in peace. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Don’t stay up too late. It’s his loss.”

  I didn’t agree with it being his loss, but I thanked her and promised I’d get some sleep soon. It turned out to have been a blatant lie because my brain refused to allow me the reprieve of sleep.

  All night, I lay there tossing and turning, thinking about the kiss we’d shared just the other day and wondering if maybe I’d imagined the connection between us. I must have imagined it, because it couldn’t have been real. Not if he was already seeing someone else and especially not if that someone looked like her.

  13

  TRISTIN

  The attention I was getting for the lunch we’d had with Faye was ridiculous. Not to mention fucking annoying. We hadn’t even been alone, but that wasn’t the way it was playing out in the media.

  Selena was nowhere in sight in any of those pictures. She’d only left the table twice. Once to use the ladies’ room and another time to take a phone call. All the photographs must’ve been taken during those two brief periods of time, but the way they’d been put together made it look like we’d been there, alone, for hours.

  Before I’d come home, I’d known the Raleigh press would make a fuss of my return. American Aviation was a large employer in the area, and my family had our name connected to all the notable local foundations, but I didn’t appreciate the interest in my personal life.

  It was made even more infuriating by the fact that I wasn’t even the least bit interested in Faye, yet one tabloid had gone so far as to claim there were wedding bells in our future. Near future.

  I’d woken up to hundreds of notifications on my phone, emails from what felt like every reporter from here to the moon requesting a comment, and even worse, an inbox flooded with spam from wedding vendors.

  After I’d gotten dressed, I’d spent far too long wading through all the crap while I’d been having my coffee on my balcony. My actual work was buried so far underneath it all that it too
k me several long minutes of scrolling before I’d gotten to it.

  Once I’d replied to the meeting requests requiring my attention, I deleted as much of the spam as I could in the time I had available and then headed downstairs. I found my mother in the kitchen talking to our chef.

  Without pausing in my mission to allow them to finish their conversation, I pulled her aside and asked the chef to give us a minute. She frowned at me, irritation flickering in her eyes as she lifted her hands.

  “Well? What is this about?”

  I showed her my phone and met her annoyed glare with one of my own. “What’s your plan with all this, Mother?”

  “Oh, you mean the publicity about you and Faye?” Smug satisfaction replaced the irritation, and some of the tension melted out of her features. “A stroke of genius, don’t you think?”

  “Excuse me?” I took a step back, raking a hand through my hair and dropping my head back with the movement, letting my eyes close as I faced the ceiling and took a few deep breaths. “No, I don’t think. I’d like to know what you were thinking, though.”

  A short huff let me know she was back to being annoyed. “I might’ve leaked a thing or two to the press here and there, but it’s all in the name of PR.”

  “Why?” I inhaled again before I could look at her without feeling the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. “What did you tell them?”

  Her jaw was set with determination, her gaze unwavering on mine. “American Aviation cannot be seen as weak or in decline now that you’re taking over. A little buzz in the press is a good thing, Tristin.”

  “Sure, but what does my love life have to do with the company?” I asked, grinding my teeth together to keep from telling her what I really thought about it.

  She rolled her eyes, then arched a blonde brow at me like she thought I was being deliberately obtuse. “Faye would be an ideal wife for you. This way, the press will note that our company is only getting stronger now that it has even closer ties with theirs. Transportation is a massive industry, Tristin. We’re only in aviation. Publicly strengthening our relations within the industry can only help us in the long run.”