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“People learned that doesn’t work on me a long time ago,” I say.
“Well I hope they start learning it about me quick,” she says.
I have to smile. Beyond all reason, I like this girl. She reminds me of me.
We say our goodbyes. We don’t need to ask for an evaluation. It’s clear that Kara is warming to us in the same way I’m warming to her. Finally we get into our waiting limo and slump on the wide seats.
“Now to do that every night for the next two weeks,” I say.
Evie moans — and not in a sexy way. “We’re going to need to go shopping again tomorrow,” she says, sounding like she’d rather spend the next twenty-four hours in bed.
“What for?” I demand. “We have clothes.”
“No way. Gotta have new clothes every night,” she says. “I brought a ton but there’s no way anything I packed is going to match up to this crowd.”
I scooch so that we’re closer together and she leans over, placing her head on my lap.
“We fucking killed it though,” I say, punctuating the sentence with a loud yawn.
“I could get used to that VIP stuff,” she replies sleepily.
I could get used to you. I almost say it. I open my mouth to. But I hesitate, something giving me pause. A feeling? Of self-consciousness, or maybe just of fear.
I never thought I had much to lose either.
But then I realize it would have been pointless anyway. Evie has fallen asleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EVIE
Nick’s head is between my legs, his tongue working at my most sensitive parts.
My muscles tense and relax, trying hard to hold my orgasm. It barely works. My hands rip at his hair and push him deeper.
“Right there,” I get out. “Don’t fucking change anything.”
He listens; he always does. The tongue, the fingers, the sight of his muscular bare back flexing sends me rocketing over the edge. Pleasure rips up and down my body, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my limbs spasm and shake. It’s a long, long time before it fully subsides.
I collapse, spent, sinking deeper into the softest bed on this planet of Earth. My limbs are like jelly, and when Nick looks up, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief, a whole other feeling envelopes me. One much more serious than pure lust.
I’m afraid I might actually be falling for this man.
Nick works his way up the bed until he’s lying beside me and I run a hand up from his abs over his curved chest to his angular jawline. I lean in and kiss him and when he kisses me back I still feel the same wild mixture of intensity and peace I felt the first time his lips touched mine. It seems contradictory, but then everything about Nick seems that way — he can be hard and soft, serious and silly, boyishly flirty and porn star filthy. And he manages to juggle these contradictions with the skill of a veteran circus performer.
“One more day,” he says.
“One more day in Paris,” I remind him. “One more week of partying like eighteen-year-olds during rush week.”
His eyes are so close that we’re nose to nose. They crinkle and narrow, a sign he’s about to tease me. “Rush week?” he asks. “Don’t tell me you were in a sorority.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “What do you have against sororities?”
He considers and then says, “Okay I actually just have something against fraternities.”
“So no hazing for little Nick Madison?” I ask.
“Hell no. You couldn’t pay me to join that shit show,” he says.
