“Just one. It’s for my girlfriend, Daphne.”
Summer freezes. And I mean freezes. She was in the process of reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear, and her arm literally stops midair. Then it drops abruptly to her side, and at least five seconds tick by as she stares at Chris, whose body language displays some serious discomfort.
“Do you mean… Did you ever go out with a Kappa named Kaya, by any chance?”
Chris shoves his gloved hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I dated Kaya. But that was a long time ago.” He frowns. “I’m with Daphne now.”
“Daphne Kettleman?”
He looks startled. “Yeah. You know her?”
Summer’s entire body seems to vibrate with excitement. “No. I don’t know her.”
Since she moved in with us, I’ve witnessed this girl get excited about many things.
Her Prada boots.
One Direction.
Leonardo DiCaprio.
Sex.
But I’ve never seen her face light up the way it does during this conversation about Daphne Kettleman. Whoever that is.
“Oh my God. Okay. I’m sorry. I’m freaking out right now.” She’s practically bouncing on her feet. “I can’t wait to meet her. Tell her I’m a huge fan. Oh my God, tell her we need to chill at the after-party.”
Chris gives her a strange look.
As he should. I’d be weirded out too if, for no discernible reason, some crazy blonde lost her shit at the thought of meeting my girlfriend.
“Um. Sure. I’ll tell her.” He starts backing away, then mutters a hasty goodbye and flees.
“Because that wasn’t fucking weird,” I tell Summer.
She beams at me. “You don’t even know. Daphne’s reputation precedes her.” And then she babbles on about Daphne and alcohol poisoning and someone stealing Daphne’s clothes, and I follow her up the stairs and try to keep up until my eyes finally glaze over.
We enter my room and I lock the door, shutting Summer up the only way I know how—by kissing her.
But kissing her never fails to lead to a raging hard-on, which she notices instantly. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Fitz. How are you always so horny, no matter what?”
“My cock can’t tell time.”
She laughs, a sweet melody that makes my dick sing along with anticipation. I kiss her again, and we’re naked in no time at all, making out on the bed with our legs tangled together and our hands busy exploring.
As her fingers roam my bare chest, she releases a happy sigh. “There should be a law stating you’re not allowed to wear a shirt ever.”
“There should be a law stating you’re not allowed to wear anything ever.” I ease out of her grip and kiss my way down her centerfold body until I reach my favorite place on earth.
I go down on her until she’s clawing at the sheets and begging me to get inside her, but rather than climb on top of her, I sprawl on my back and tug her on top of me.
“Ride me,” I tell her, and she’s happy to oblige.
In a heartbeat, I’ve got a condom on and there’s a beautiful woman grinding on my dick. Pain stings my pecs as she digs her nails into my skin, her pelvis moving in slow, seductive strokes. The teasing tempo doesn’t last long, though. Soon her pace increases and she’s riding me in earnest.
I lie back and admire the view, her perky breasts swaying as she moves, the flush rising in her cheeks. She bites her bottom lip, and I can see in her eyes that she’s close. She’s got that fuzzy, blissed-out look that I love, and when she cries out and collapses on top of me, her orgasm pushes me over the edge. I wrap my arms around her as she milks every last drop of pleasure from my body. I can only manage short, ragged breaths, and it takes a few minutes before my brain is able to function again. I open my eyes to find Summer grinning at me.
“You okay?” she teases.
I groan. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” She strokes my shoulders and kisses a spot between my pecs. “How can I make it better?”
“You just did.”
I groan at the loss of her when she climbs off me. And I’m still sporting a semi, a fact she wastes no time commenting on when she returns from the bathroom.
“Oh good!” Her eyes light up. “You’ll be ready to go again soon.”
I roll onto my side. “Damn, woman, one orgasm isn’t enough for you? You have incredibly high expectations.”
“I require at least two.” She jumps on the bed and nestles in front of me so that she’s my little spoon. “I’m kidding. I’m good for now. That was incredible.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” I agree. I sling an arm around and hold her tight. I’m feeling sleepy all of a sudden. “Wanna take a nap?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” She sounds drowsy too.
My eyelids flutter closed. I feel myself starting to drift, my mind starting to fade, when suddenly I remember something. “Hey. Babe.”
“Hmmm?” She snuggles her ass closer to my groin, and the heat of her body seeps into me.
“Thursday night.”
“What about it?”
“It’s the fundraiser. The one Kamal Jain wants me to go to. His assistant emailed me the details this morning. It’s at your hotel.”
That gets her attention. “The Heyward Plaza?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” I run my fingers over her hip. Her skin is so fucking soft. “I have a plus one.”
“Hmmm?”
I laugh. “I feel like we can have an entire conversation with just hmmms and mmm-hmmms.”
“We should try it when I’m not in an orgasm coma.”
“Deal.” I press a kiss on the nape of her neck. “You wanna go to the fundraiser with me?”
“Hold on. You’re inviting me to a fancy party where I get to dress up and be social? What the hell is wrong with you? That’s so not my scene.”
I sigh. “You’re right. That was a stupid question.”
“Of course I’ll go. But I have one condition.”
“Hmmm?”
“I get to pick your outfit.”
“Well, yeah.” My shoulders tremble with laughter as I wrap my arms tighter around her. “I’d never dream of picking my own.”
28
Fitz
“We’re going to be late,” I tell Summer’s closet. I’d like to tell Summer herself, but she’s been locked up in the cavernous walk-in for the past two hours.
At first I didn’t mind, because it gave me the opportunity to explore the penthouse, which I didn’t have a chance to do when I came here with Dean once. The place has a sleek, modern design, and it’s luxury to the max. I’d poked my head into their library, and then had to duck right back out, because I’d require about three full days to thoroughly examine the contents of the enormous, walnut-paneled room.
I can’t believe real people actually live here. And not even full time; Summer’s parents split their time between this surreal apartment and their mansion in Greenwich. I’m afraid to even see pictures of the latter. I hear it has a skating rink in the backyard.
It’s a stroke of luck that Kamal Jain’s fundraiser for leukemia is being held in one of the ballrooms downstairs. That means Summer and I didn’t have to spring for a room in this insanely priced hotel. Nope, we’re staying for free in the penthouse. Though that’s not a detail I plan to reveal to Kamal. I feel like he wouldn’t like the idea that I’m staying somewhere better than him, assuming he’s at this hotel. For all I know, he’s boarding his private jet after the shindig and flying to a villa in the Mediterranean.
“I’m almost ready,” Summer’s muffled voice replies.
“Define almost,” I call back.
“Three minutes, give or take five minutes.”
Laughter bubbles in my throat. This girl.
We got in last night, and we’ve been having a blast so far. I ate her out on the pool table, which was hot. She blew me on her California king mattress, and then we snuggled in bed and binged a show about child killers. Summer agreed
to watch it with me in exchange for—ugh. I don’t even want to think about it. But I may or may not have agreed to watch the latest season of The Bachelor with her. Summer has that effect on me. My first instinct is to say yes to anything she asks, because I want to make her happy.
We’ve spent almost every waking hour together for the past three weeks. She sleeps in my bedroom. Her makeup clutters my bathroom counter. Every morning she rumples her bedsheets to make it look like she’s still sleeping in her own room. I think it’s for Hunter’s sake, but he’s not an idiot. He knows.
No matter how quiet we think we’re being when we have sex, I have no doubt both Hunter and Hollis are well aware that we’re sleeping together.
But short of moving out, or asking Summer to, I don’t how to make the situation with Hunter any better. And at the moment, I need to focus on impressing Kamal Jain.
“Summer,” I grumble. “Your three minutes are up. I know the event is right downstairs, but I think it’d make a bad impression if we were late to—”
My vocal cords seize, all coherent thought flying out of my brain
Summer’s closet is clearly a magical portal. She entered it wearing Lululemon pants, wool socks, and one of my hockey hoodies.
She exits it looking like a goddess.
A slinky silver dress is plastered to her body, hugging every tantalizing curve. A slit goes up to her thigh, revealing one long, tanned leg, and her silver stilettos add about another four inches to her already tall frame. Her golden hair is up in an elegant twist held together by an ornate clip that sparkles under the light fixture overhead. It takes me a moment to realize that her hairclip is sparkling because it’s encrusted with diamonds.
Summer notes my expression. Her makeup is subtle except for her bright red lips, which curve into a smile. It’s really fucking hot.
“You like?” She spins in a circle and her shimmery dress swirls around her ankles.
“I like,” I say gruffly.
“How much?” She plants a hand on her waist, cocks her hip, and thrusts a leg out in a pose that makes me groan. My dick twitches at the sight of her bare thigh emerging from the dress’s slit.
“I like a lot.” I clear the gravel from my throat. “How ‘bout me?”
She scrutinizes me from head to toe. Completely unnecessary considering she’s the one who chose every scrap of fabric on my body, from the Tom Ford shoes to the crisp black suit jacket to the navy-blue dress shirt with only the top button undone. Summer said that as hot as my chest tattoo is, she doesn’t want it peeking out tonight. Apparently, she’s been to this leukemia fundraiser before (why am I not surprised?), and she warned me that the crowd will consist of a lot of old people with very deep pockets—and very closed minds.
“You look sharp, babe. Super professional. Oh, and sexy.”
I laugh. “Perfect. Sexy is what I’m going for. I plan on sleeping with Kamal Jain to get the job.”
“Let me know how that works out for you.”
The penthouse has an elevator requiring a key that only Summer’s family has access to. As we ride it downstairs, she takes her phone out of her silver clutch and opens Instagram. “Let’s take a selfie,” she announces, and the next thing I know she’s pulling me into frame and snapping a dozen photos of us.
“You’re the worst,” I tell her, because she knows I hate selfies.
She beams at me. “I think what you mean is, I’m the best.”
I snort. “My bad. That’s exactly what I meant.”
We reach the lobby. Summer’s heels click on the marble floor as she glides across it. The Heyward Plaza is hands down the fanciest hotel I’ve ever seen. I can’t fathom that Summer might inherit it one day.
She smiles and waves at the concierge. “Evening, Thomas.”
The white-haired man gives her a warm smile in return. “Evening, Miss Summer. Try not to cause too much trouble tonight, will you?”
I snicker under my breath.
“Thomas has worked here for more than twenty years,” she explains as we enter another hallway that holds another elevator bank.
“Really?”
She nods. “I was a baby when he got hired, so he pretty much watched me grow up.”
“Ah. So he’s had a front-row seat to all your troublemaking.”
“Oh yeah. My Greenwich friends and I used to sneak into the city and come to the hotel, and I thought I was bribing him to keep quiet by slipping him hundreds.” She makes an outraged face. “And then I found out he was double-crossing me.”
I snort. “Ratted you out to the parents, huh?”
“Every single time. But they never said a word. I didn’t realize they knew about it until years later, after I left for college. My parents are really cool,” she admits. “If I wanted to cut a day of school to go shopping with my friends, they didn’t mind as long as I was safe and didn’t make it a habit.”
The elevator shows up, and we walk inside. Summer presses the button for the “Heather Ballroom.” There are four other ballrooms on the list, all named after flowers. The Lily, the Rose, the Heather, and the Dahlia. Fancy.
The doors ding open, and we’re met by a crescendo of noise—a symphony of glass clinking, high heels clacking on hardwood, the hum of conversation, laughter.
Summer links her arm through mine as we approach the massive arched doorway of the ballroom. Beyond it, I see elegantly dressed people milling around in an elegantly decorated room. The stage is set up for a live band, but they’re not playing at the moment. Round tables with pristine tablecloths and ornate centerpieces are scattered on either side of the shiny dance floor. I don’t see anyone eating actual meals, but the waiters thread their way through the crowd carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres.
This totally isn’t my scene. A sea of gowns and tuxedos swells before me, fingers and earlobes and wrists sparkling and gleaming like the front window of a lighting store. And I thought Summer’s diamond hairclip was flashy. I gape as I spot a middle-aged woman wearing ruby earrings that are so enormous, her earlobes are actually stretching due to their heft.
“Is that him?” Summer whispers in my ear.
“Yup.” I’m not surprised that she’s picked Kamal out of the crowd. Despite his small stature, he’s got a big personality.
He holds court across the room near the largest of the three bars in the ballroom. Wild hand gestures and animated facial expressions accompany whatever long-winded anecdote he’s regaling his audience with.
We stand there watching as his half-dozen admirers all burst into laughter. “Must be a great story,” she remarks. “Or it’s boring as fuck, and they’re just sucking up to him because he’s a gazilliotrillionaire.”
I laugh. My girl has a way with words. Especially ones she makes up. “Could go either way.”
“Well, let’s say hello. He’s the reason you’re here, right?”
“Right.”
Anxiety tickles my stomach as we approach the bar. The second he notices me, Kamal breaks off midsentence, his expression lighting up. He slaps the arm of the old dude beside him and says, “Gonna have to excuse me, brother. My guest has arrived.” He disengages from the group and strides toward me. “You made it!”
“Thanks again for inviting—”
He’s still talking, as he always does. “Was worried about you, man! Everyone else got here before the doors were even open, saw them lurking in the lobby like a bunch of creeps, but hey, better early than late, huh?” There’s a bite to his last statement.
“You can blame me for our tardiness,” Summer says sheepishly. “I held us up.”
Kamal does a double take, as if he’s suddenly realized I’m not alone. He scrutinizes Summer from head to toe, and there’s nothing subtle about the way he does it. His eyes linger on her cleavage. They linger even longer on the diamonds in her hair.
“And who might you be?” he finally asks.
“I’m Summer.” She extends one delicate hand. “Colin’s girlfriend.”
&nbs
p; Kamal’s eyebrows soar. He takes her hand, but rather than shake it, he brings it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Her smile looks forced. “Likewise.”
He releases her hand and turns to address me. “You never mentioned you had a girlfriend.”
I shrug awkwardly. “Well. Yeah. It didn’t exactly come up in the interview.”
“No reason why it should have,” Summer says lightly. “Job interviews are about the candidate’s résumé, not their personal life. Right?”
“Right,” Kamal echoes. Once again, his tone has a bite to it. And his expression is darkening by the second.
I can’t figure out the source of his displeasure, but the longer he looks at Summer, the more his demeanor changes. I swear I see the corner of his mouth curl in a slight sneer. I guess the source is Summer? But I couldn’t tell you why.
“Is it just me, or is this really uncomfortable?” Summer hisses in my ear an hour later. She’d dragged me onto the dance floor and looped her arms around my neck, leaving me no choice but to rest my hands on her hips and pretend I know how to dance.
I understand her motivation, though—it was the only way to unglue ourselves from Kamal’s side. He hasn’t let us out of his sight since we arrived. That’s not to say he hasn’t been mingling. He has, only he’s been dragging me and Summer along with him to every conversation. The other job hopefuls trail behind us like baby ducklings, and I feel bad for them because he isn’t paying them a lick of attention. He seems utterly fascinated by Summer, yet at the same time I sense animosity rippling beneath the surface.
“It’s not just you. He’s acting strange.”
“No, he’s acting like a dick.” She bites her lip. “I feel like he’s judging us. I can’t really explain it…” She trails off.
I know precisely what she means. I’ve felt it too.
The song ends before I’m ready, and panic jolts through me when the bluesy lead singer announces they’re taking a ten-minute break. Summer laces her fingers through mine as we walk to the edge of the dance floor.