It’s the longest, most uncomfortably silent ride home in the history of rides through Manhattan. When I finally shut the door of Curated behind me, I slide down the wooden panel into a crumpled heap on the floor. Tears spill down my face.
How the hell did I fuck up a perfect life so badly?
Sixteen
Legend
My phone buzzes with a text.
Q: She just got home from dinner. Boyfriend dropped her off but didn’t go inside. Still no sign of cops. Wish you’d let me have one of the girls steal her fucking phone at dinner, so we’d know for sure.
All I care about is one part of that message, and it’s the part that shouldn’t matter to me at all.
Boyfriend dropped her off but didn’t go inside.
The magazine on my desk is still open to the picture of the two of them. Why, I don’t fucking know.
Probably because I’m waiting for an answer to the couriered message I sent over, and her leaving for dinner fucked that all up. I should have sent it earlier so she’d have to respond tomeinstead of spending time with Captain Dickwad.
Tomorrow. I’ll hear from her tomorrow.
And if I don’t, she’ll find out Gabriel Legend is not a man to be ignored.
Seventeen
Scarlett
After wiping away my tears and taking off what’s left of my makeup, I put tonight out of my mind. I don’t know why I’m going to go to the appointment Chadwick booked for me on Friday, but I will.
To distract myself from whatever I’m getting into then, I should scroll my usual social media feeds or check to see if there’s a new#LifeIsMessyphoto of the Winston triplets, but instead, I do something stupid. Something really, really stupid.
I open my laptop and click over to YouTube and pick a video to watch. In this one, Gabriel Legend is shirtless and wearing tight-fitting black shorts that highlight every muscle in his thick quads, along with the bulge of his cup.
“You might as well be a fucking block of ice.”
Chadwick’s words come back to me, and I grit my teeth because he’swrongand I can prove it.No, no more Chadwick tonight.
I put him out of my mind as I watch Legend trade punches with the other man. I wince at every hit that connects, and I wait for the moment when he shoots out and takes the man to the mat, sweat turning his rippling back muscles into a work of art deserving of a place of honor in the Louvre.
My nipples peak, and heat builds between my legs.I am not a block of ice.
The bottom of my fuzzy robe slides open, and I trail my fingers up my thigh. My inner muscles clench at the sensation, and my hand keeps moving. I go higher and higher as he wrestles with the man, changing positions and taking control.
In my mind, though, the picture changes, and I see him on top of me, pinning me to my bed or any nearby flat surface. Those blue eyes stare down at me, burning with desire.
He wants me.
My fingers hit a slick of wetness, and I can’t contain my moan.
I shove the computer off my lap, drop my head on the pillow, and give in fully to my fantasy. Arching my back, I stroke my center, teasing myself by not touching my clit because it just makes me even hotter.
A deep, gruff voice fills my head.“You’re mine, and I decide when you come. Until then, you’re going to have to beg.”
Soft whimpers spill from between my lips as I rock my hips against my hand, wanting more. Wanting to be taken. Owned. Dominated. By a man who knows what he’s doing. A man who knows what I need.
I fling out my hand and yank open my nightstand drawer. Inside is a toy I’ve been testing—for research purposes—and a bottle of lube.
It takes no time at all before the vibrator buzzes deliciously against me, teasing my clit and giving me just the tip. Over and over, I bring myself to the edge, imagining it’s a blue-eyed devil hell-bent on destroying every barrier I have to get to the core of me. To make me lose all my inhibitions until I beg for what I really want. To give me what no one has given me before.