TWO DAYS AFTER MATT HAD opened the bad and dirty version of Pandora’s box, I was pretty sure my brain had inserted some kind of numbing agent into my veins as means to cope.
I should’ve still been freaked the fuck out. Scared. Paranoid. Hell, I probably shouldn’t have prodded and probed him for information in the first place.
But once the information had settled into my brain, the fear and panic had been replaced with this sort of numbed curiosity. I was inquisitive more than anything else. It was like I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the risks that now surrounded me by knowing the things Matt had revealed. I knew this was a Danger, Will Robinson! kind of situation, but my mind just kept fixating on more questions.
Maybe what they said was true: Curiosity killed the cat. Or, in my version, replace the cat with a twenty-five-year-old girl named Alex.
Not to mention over the past forty-eight hours, the only contact I’d had with Matt was one simple text exchange this morning.
Matt: Keep your schedule clear tonight.
Me: Okay.
The rational side of me knew I should have probably, you know, questioned what was supposed to happen tonight. But instead, I’d just typed Okay.
Fucking okay? Jesus, Alex. Are you losing it?
I honestly wasn’t sure anymore.
Cripes, I probably should’ve been panicked and pacing in my apartment. Or packing up all of my shit and taking the first Greyhound back to San Diego. Maybe taking things to the police.
To the police chief I saw at the Ari Simon party? Not likely.
How was I supposed to know who was good anymore anyway? It all seemed tainted.
So, basically, I’d been sticking my head in the mundane sand for two solid days.
And today’s agenda was no different. I’d be enjoying a Segway tour through Beverly Hills.
Ever since I’d moved here, I’d wanted to do it. But the one hundred and fifty bucks required to sign up had always made it impossible to follow through.
But thanks to Matt Hadder and the very generous tippers within the two Wonderland parties I had under my belt, I could splurge. So much so, I almost couldn’t fathom my life anymore. I’d made a five-figure salary from two nights of work.
That kind of quick cash felt dangerous, like I was somehow cheating or thieving, but it was nice not to have to struggle for money once in my life. And, although the parties pushed the boundaries of good and bad, they weren’t an uncomfortable or scary place to be. It was a contradiction to say the least.
At eleven in the morning, with matching neon yellow vests and bicycle helmets, our little group of twelve was a ridiculous sight for sure. But hot damn, these Segways looked like fun. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t endured mild humiliation. If I could get through an entire birthday party dressed as Sprinkles the Rabbit, I could handle the hideous and blinding gear.
“Our first lesson of the day,” our instructor Bobby started his spiel, “is safety. That is our biggest priority. The group stays together and must follow all pedestrian traffic laws.”
We stood around him in an empty parking lot and watched closely as he showed us the ins and outs of the Segway.
“Keep a firm hold on the Segway at all times.” He stepped onto his Segway and gripped the handlebars. “Always have both feet firmly aboard and both hands holding the handlebar.”
A woman with bright red hair and a fanny pack raised her hand. Her name tag read Margie. “Can you fall off of a Segway?”
“Yes,” Bobby answered. “But that’s why we’re giving you the crash course prior to the tour. To avoid things like that.”
“Will it hurt if I fall off of my Segway?” she chimed in.
“Yes, but let’s just focus on avoiding falls, okay?” he stated and then made another slow circle around our group.
“How fast can we go?” Another question from Margie.
There was always one in the group. I sighed internally. Jesus, lady. Just let him finish before you ask one million questions.
“Aim to keep a fast walking pace,” he answered. “You should avoid speeding and always give way to pedestrians.”
“But how fast is that? Like twenty miles an hour?” the only goddamn person in our group asking questions asked. Maybe I should have Matt take Margie out.
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. What in the hell kind of thought was that? You’re supposed to be ignoring Matt and death and how the two relate to one another, okay, Alex?
“Definitely not twenty miles an hour. Probably more like five miles an hour.”
“But that’s so slow—” She started to add more, but Bobby appeared tired of her pop quiz and gestured her to quiet down with a terse raise of his hand.
A gesture. That’s how normal people think. Not fucking offing her. Jesus.
“These devices are not meant to go as fast as cars,” he instructed and demonstrated on his Segway as he circled the group again. “Similar to this speed.”
Margie sighed. She seemed annoyed by the prospect of not being able to careen through the streets of Beverly Hills at ninety miles an hour.
Fifteen minutes later, Bobby had us set and raring to go, and I’d finally stopped circling the thought drain when it came to Matt and everything he’d told me. Today was about fun, and I was about to have it. Everyone stood on their Segway, both hands securely on their handlebars, and our instructor waited at the front of the pack, ready to guide us through the gorgeous landscape that was Beverly Hills.
“Everyone keep a distance from one another and stay in single-line formation,” he called from the front, and with a slight tilt forward, he slowly set the pace for the group.
We only made it a block before someone started voicing her irritation with the speed. “Can’t we go faster?” Margie, who just happened to be behind me, complained. More to herself than anyone else. “This is going to take us forever.”
We weren’t going that slow. It was the fucking fast walking pace that Bobby had stated twenty different times.
I tried to tune out Margie’s complaints and enjoy the ride and gorgeous views, but five more minutes into the tour, and she started firing off more questions.
“How close are we to Leonardo DiCaprio’s house?”
“Can’t we just ride with the traffic? We could go a lot faster.”
“What time are we going to eat lunch? I’m starting to get a little hungry.”
Margie was the faucet of bullshit, and her questions and complaints and utter nonsense kept flowing at an annoyingly steady pace.
I had no idea if Bobby couldn’t actually hear her or if he was tuning her out, but he appeared oblivious to her current irritated state. My guess was the latter. Lord knew, I was trying my damnedest to ignore her.
Despite Margie, the tour started off smooth. Bobby led us, and we followed behind like little neon ducklings ready to listen to his every instruction. But as we headed down the iconic palm-tree-lined street better known as Sunset Boulevard, things took a turn for the worse.
“Shit. Margie!” Bobby called from the front. “Get back on the sidewalk.”
But apparently, she didn’t listen.
In a blur of neon, she zoomed past me with her Segway on the actual road and proceeded to fly past everyone in our group, the instructor included.
He continued to shout for her to slow down and get back on the sidewalk, but the woman was possessed by a speed demon. Her red hair flowed out from her head as she hauled ass up the street.
Passing cars honked their disapproval. But Margie gave zero fucks.
Well, she had given zero fucks, until a car backing out of a driveway stopped her momentum completely. She crashed into the passenger side with a loud thud. Her Segway hit the ground, and she followed its path straight until she ate pavement.
Oh, shit! And I’d been thinking about killing her!
For lack of anything better to do, everyone in our group awkwardly slowed to a stop. Which, I had to say, takes a fucking moment on a Segway. There was no quick stop and hop off on these things.
Once his wheels had halted, Bobby jumped off his Segway in a rush. By the time he reached Margie, the driver was out of his car and asking if she was okay.
She clumsily climbed to her feet and stared down at the scene with both hands on her hips. “Why didn’t it slow down? I was trying to slow it down,” she complained. “These tours are dangerous. I’m lucky I didn’t get killed!”
Holy hell, this woman is nuts.
Bobby ignored her complaints and somehow found the strength not to finish the job and strangle her in the middle of the road. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she stated and attempted to walk to the sidewalk. But from the awkward, protruding state of her right knee, it looked like walking wasn’t the best idea.
“I think you need to sit back down, Margie. Your knee looks really bad.”
“I’m fine. No thanks to your Segway, but I’m fine,” she spat and tried to walk again, but her knee gave out, and she fell like a sack of potatoes to the cement.
“Should I call an ambulance?” the driver asked Bobby.
He nodded and sighed at the same time.
All the while Margie lay on the ground, moaning and holding her knee, shouting profanities and threats of lawsuits.
It was a shitshow. A Segway tour of insanity. Luckily, I wasn’t actually responsible for her accident, but it alarmed me how quickly I’d gone from valuing human life to thinking maybe, just maybe, she got what she deserved.
Jesus Christ, what is Wonderland doing to me?
Thirty minutes and no less than fifty threats of legal action later, Margie was inside of an ambulance and headed toward the hospital. Another truck had already arrived and was packing up our Segways in the bed. Apparently, after an accident occurs, they can’t proceed with the current tour.
I had a feeling Bobby was all tapped out on tours for the day anyway. I couldn’t blame him. Fucking Margie ruined it for everyone.
I fix problems, Matt’s voice sounded in my head. Angry at his refusal to leave me alone for the day, I shouted back at my subconscious. Well, it ended my fucking tour, so I’d say your strategy needs some work!
Once we were transported back to home base and Bobby had refunded everyone’s money, I decided that a shopping trip was much-needed after that disaster.
I hopped on the bus and rode it back toward downtown LA and got off a few blocks before my apartment to visit a cute little lingerie shop I’d heard was amazing. Gorgeous collection without the designer price tags. A perfect combination.
One foot into Undressed, and I was in lingerie heaven—silk, cashmere, cotton, in all various soft and bright colors. A girl could get lost in a place like this—especially me. Lingerie was a weakness.
From bras to panties to lingerie sets, this little boutique had quite the collection that spanned from everyday use to utterly beautiful and quietly seductive pieces.
Yeah, I’ll be spending some time here today.
After perusing every nook and cranny of the store, I headed into the dressing room with my hands overflowing with sexy undergarments.
Sure, I was single and didn’t exactly have anyone to show these to, but that wasn’t the point. Sometimes, a girl needed to remind herself she was beautiful and sexy. Our beauty and confidence didn’t lie behind someone else’s eyes.
It lay within us.
It also didn’t matter that I’d spent an hour in another shop called Silk, only a few blocks from my apartment, just yesterday. Lingerie shopping knew no bounds.
Clad in a soft pink and very see-through bra and panty set, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror. My gaze moved over my body, scanning it all. The beauty. The imperfections and flaws. Me.
I felt pretty and sexy, and I couldn’t deny the soft, sheer material was crazy comfortable. I quite liked the set.
I wonder what would Matt think of this? Would it turn him on? Would it make him hard? God, I want to see him hard again…
My eyes went wide of their own accord as I stared at myself in the mirror. Had I really just thought that? I moved my gaze down to my chest and noted the hardened peaks of my nipples damn near poking through the material. Jesus, I was standing inside of a lingerie dressing room fantasizing about Matt’s penis. I was a pervert.
As I reached for the next bra to try on, my phone started ringing inside my purse and startled the fucking shit out of me. With shaking hands, I bumbled it out of the front pocket and my jaw practically hit the floor when I saw Matt Hadder’s name flashing across the screen.
What in the ever-loving fuck? It was like he knew I was thinking about him or something.
My internal debate over whether I could handle talking to him or not was short-lived. I answered by the third ring. “Hello?”
“I like the black lace set you bought yesterday better,” he said by way of greeting. “Although, I guess I can’t be certain until I actually see them both.”
“What?” My eyes damn near popped out of my head, and I quickly looked around the dressing room in confusion. “How do you know what I bought yesterday? Wait…how do you even know where I’m at or what I’m doing?”
Was he following me?
Holy fucking shit.
“I think you should try on that set in soft blue,” he said, ignoring my questions completely. “I’m a big fan of that shade. It matches your eyes.”
“I’m so confused right now,” I muttered, and he responded with a soft chuckle.
“Open up, little one,” he murmured. “I’ve got something else for you to try on.”
Three soft knocks to my dressing room door followed his words. Startled, I dropped the bra out of my shaky hands and all but jumped out of my skin.
I cracked it open and found Matt standing on the other side, holding the soft blue bra and panty set.
“You’re here?” I asked with wide eyes.
He merely smirked and gently pushed the door wider so he could walk inside. He shut it with a quiet click once his large frame dominated the small space of my dressing room.
I stood frozen in my spot in the sheerest fucking lingerie imaginable. Nipples, areolas, it was the full fucking monty. All my goods were on display beneath the soft pink material.
How nice. Just like the day we met.
But no words were exchanged.
Instead, Matt stood at my back, staring at me in the reflection of the mirror. His honey gaze slowly moved down my body, stopping briefly at my hardening nipples, until he took a long pause at the apex of my thighs.
His lips curved up into a slow and seductive smile at the sight.
“The pink is better than I imagined,” he whispered into my ear. “But I need to see the blue to be sure.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Didn’t even need to respond. Enthralled, I watched his long, sexy fingers slide up my arms and around my back until they unclasped the bra. He removed it with sure but careful movements.
I didn’t stop him. Didn’t try to stop him. Didn’t want to stop him.
Frozen to my spot, I stood there and watched as his fingers barely skimmed my skin as he removed the panties, leaving me completely bared for his heady gaze. As he slid the soft blue bra over my aching breasts, I clenched my thighs together to quell the constant throbbing that had taken hold. And when he slowly slid the panties up my legs and over my ass, a shiver ran up my spine, goose bumps following in its wake.
Matt gripped my hips and gently pulled my back to his chest. I felt the hardness of his arousal through the sheer material covering my ass.
Jesus. He was hard. And big.
I wanted to see it. I wanted to turn around and unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and bare his aroused cock for my greedy gaze.
But before I could find the courage to give in to my desire, his hands moved to my shoulders, and he spun me around to face him.
Vivid, intense, amber eyes, strong jaw, full lips. God, he was handsome. I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever realized how handsome Matt Hadder really was until that moment.
“Buy them both,” he said, and, with a steady hand, he slid a wad of money into the bra. “But wear the blue tonight.”
“Tonight?” I asked and realized it was literally the first word I’d spoken since he’d stepped inside the room.
“Another party,” he answered. “Be there at eight. I’ll text you the address.”
I nodded, trying to swallow the accumulating saliva in my mouth before it overflowed. It’d be good for my dry throat anyway.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I just stared back at him, my mouth unable to form words.
With a soft smirk etching his full, sexy lips, he gazed into my eyes for a long moment. And then, without another word, he was gone.