THIRTEEN
ARIANNA
SERA
After my slip-up in the car, I told myself there’d be no way I’d pass out in the bed. I needed to keep my guard up, needed to make sure Fix didn’t try and smother me with a pillow while I was unconscious. But when he laid down on the blanket and cushion set-up he’d arranged for himself, promptly passing the fuck out like he’d been hit upside the head with a hammer, I couldn’t help it. My eyelids were like lead weights. It occurred to me, as I found myself relinquishing control over my body, that now was a prime opportunity to escape Fix once and for all. It would have been as simple as getting up, tiptoeing silently across the room, opening the door, hurtling down the hallway as fast as I could, and then demanding the concierge call the police.
If the cops turned up, sirens wailing, tires spinning, on Amy’s wedding day, though…she’d never forgive me. She’d be horrified that I’d been through such a traumatic experience, sure. She’d probably hug me as if my life depended on it, crying and thanking god that I was okay. But inside, she’d be seething. I knew her. She’d spent close to a year designing the floral arrangements for this event. If her magnificently coiffured hair, the delectable vol-au-vents, and her perfect princess dress weren’t the first things people thought of when they remembered the wedding of Amy Lafferty and Ben Stewart, then she would carry this secret kernel of hatred toward me around with her for the rest of her days. She was horrible at hiding things like that.
It was the dumbest thing I’d ever done, but I didn’t creep out of the room and high tail it down to the lobby. I turned on my side, gripping the hotel pen tightly in my hand, ballpoint end facing down, just in case I needed to stab Fix in the neck with it, and I succumbed to an exhausted sleep.
******
“I think if you curl it the other…yeah, that’s it. I know, it’s weird, right? But…I guess someone told me that if you hold the wand upside and kept it really loose in your hand it would seal the cuticle, and make your hair really shiny.”
“Wow! You’re right! That’s a great tip!”
I recognized the sound of Arianna’s voice with a sense of dread and irritation. Only daring to open one eye, I scanned the unfamiliar room, processing and remembering everything with a sense of disbelief. That’s right: I’d seen a man murdered, I’d been kidnapped by a guy I’d had the most incredible sex of my life with, and now he was in our hotel room, giving hair styling advice to my sister’s prissy best friend. In his underwear.
I sat up. I stood up. I straightened my shirt, flattening down my mussed hair with one hand.
Hmm. Well wasn’t this an interesting development.
I quickly decided not to warn Arianna to get away from Fix; she looked like she was about to drop to her knees and start licking his abs, but the red-haired witch had fucked Gareth the moment she’d found out we were no longer together, and as a result I was feeling a little disinclined to look out for welfare. If she wanted to giggle and flirt with a guy who could exsanguinate someone without even a flicker of remorse, then she could go to town.
“Arianna. What a surprise. I didn’t think I’d see you until we were called down to get dressed.” I shouldn’t have been so happy about the fact that she’d put on a little weight, but let’s be honest. I was smirking beneath the cordial, friendly masked I’d just donned.
Arianna blinked, as if she’d forgotten altogether that she’d come into my hotel room with my supposed boyfriend while I was still sleeping in the bed. “Oh, hey, Sera! It’s so nice to see you!” She put down my curling iron and hurried across the room, throwing her arms around my neck. I didn’t want to hug her. I didn’t want to be near her. I didn’t want anything to do with the girl. Her perfume was utterly overpowering—whatever she was wearing, it was too sharp, too chemically, and she’d bathed herself in it without any idea that it made her smell like she cleaned toilets for a living. “I’m sorry, the stylist’s curling iron keeps blowing the fuse in the makeup studio downstairs. Amy sent me to come and borrow yours. When Felix opened the door, here, I thought I’d come to the wrong place.” The way she tittered nervously, her cheeks rosy and pink, practically glowing, told me enough: Arianna had a crush on yet another of my boyfriends. Didn’t matter that Fix was a fake boyfriend. Didn’t matter that I had absolutely no claim over him whatsoever. It was just fucking typical that this little viper would be trying to snake her way into Fix’s Georgio Armani shorts right underneath my nose.
“Of course. Take the curling iron,” I said, pressing my lips together into a thin smile. “What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty,” Arianna told me. “We’re going to be dressing in an hour. Your hair and makeup are at one. You’re last. Amy knew you’d be tired. You could probably rest for another hour or so, if you wanted. You have the most terrible circles under your eyes.” She feigned concern, pouting and frowning as she ran the pad of her index finger under my left eye, as if she could brush away said circles with the slightest touch of her hand. I considered grabbing her by the wrist, wrenching her arm behind her back, immobilizing her, and then breaking every single one of her fingers, but I refrained. It was a goddamn Christmas miracle.
“I know. This one’s been keeping me up all night,” I told her, jerking my head in Fix’s direction. I smiled conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret with a girlfriend. “He’s very skilled with his hands. And his tongue. No concept of time, though.”
Fix leaned back against the armoire, folding his arms across his chest, a crooked smile on his face. His arms were ridiculous. So was his stomach. He must have spent years in the gym perfecting a body like that. I’d already seen him naked before, so I’d had a chance to come to terms with just how fucking sexy he was. Arianna, on the other hand…
Her cheeks were flushed, her general demeanor that of a dazed high school student meeting their boy band crush in real life. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Fix’s abs. It was getting a little embarrassing. Guiding her to the door, I shoved my curling iron at her and smiled through gritted teeth. “I’ll be on time for my turn with the stylist. I doubt he’s going to let me go back to sleep now, but I’ll try and do something about the bags under my eyes.”
I swung the door closed, pushing it with the very tips of my fingers until it clicked. I’d wanted to slam the door so hard it made the very foundations of the hotel shake, but instead I went the other way, being incredibly gentle as I shut her out of the room.
“Good with my tongue, huh?”
My body locked up as I felt hands on me—Fix’s hands, skating over my hips, sliding over the massive t-shirt I’d worn to bed last night. The back of my neck prickled in response to his warm breath caressing my skin.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
His chest pressed up against my back, and…something else…brushing up against my ass. God, he had an erection. He was hard as hell, and he wasn’t making any efforts to hide the fact as he lowered his mouth into the crook of my neck, brushing my skin with his lips.
I froze.
Jesus…
How were good girls supposed to stay good when bad boys like Fix made it so ease to sin? How the fuck were smart girls supposed to retain their sanity, not to mention their heads, when they had Felix Marcosa’s hands roaming all over their body? It just…it wasn’t fucking possible. It wasn’t fucking fair. Fix’s voice sent a chill charging through my veins, rocking me to my core.
“I thought you said you didn’t like playing games,” he whispered.
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you just play that girl so hard, she didn’t know what fucking day of the week it was?”
With every word, his lips grazed my neck, and a volley of anticipation, mixed with fear burned over my skin. “She’s not as oblivious as she makes out to be. She plays the simpering idiot, but she knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s no such thing as innocent flirtation with Arianna Foster. So what if I fucked with her a little?”
“Mmmm…” Fix hands moved up my body, stroking over my stomach and then back down my thighs again. A heady wave of pleasure flowed through me, and my eyes rolled back in my head. Thank god he couldn’t see. If he knew the effect he was having on me…
“I know I’m good with my tongue, by the way. I know I’m good with my hands. It’s nice to hear you admit it out loud, though, Angel. I could always treat you to round two, if you’d like? I could lick and suck and tease your clit. I could lave at it until you came, and then I could lick you some more. I could slide my fingers inside your pussy and tease that little spot you like. The one that has you bucking against me, screaming my fucking name. And when you’re done coming, when you’re boneless and half blind from the orgasms I’ve given you, I could lick you clean.”
Oh… Shit…
“As for the way you handled the redhead. I enjoyed the show, Sera,” he murmured. “You’re full of piss and vinegar when you’re defending what’s yours.”
That was it. That was enough to snap me out of my moment of stupidity. I stepped out of his arms, shaking off the desire that had, for a second, made me forget who Fix Marcosa really was. My face was trained into a deadpan, flat void when I spun around and locked eyes with him. “You’re not mine, Fix. We’re not…this isn’t a thing. You’re a bad person. You do know that, don’t you?”
The charming, devil-may-care grin that was plastered all over Fix’s face didn’t slip, but there was a flash of something akin to pain that shone out of his strange, pale blue eyes. It was only there for a split second, but I saw it. I saw how badly I’d hurt him.
“Yep. You have me dead to rights, Lafferty.” Inhaling, he looked around the room, stretching that breathtaking body of his like a cat lounging out in the sun. “Since you’re awake now and there are no more bridesmaids to coo over me, I guess I’d better go and find myself a suit.”
Urgh. Of course he didn’t have a suit. “How the hell are you going to find a suit in a hotel in the middle of nowhere?”
My stomach did something strange as Fix slid his arms into a t-shirt and threw the thin black material over his head. He looked so good in a tee. Shit, the man looked good in absolutely anything he put on his body. He’d be able to make a trash bag look amazing, for fuck’s sake. I turned away, refusing to allow myself to watch him as he kicked his feet into a pair of dark grey jeans, torn and ripped at the knees.
“I’ll find a way, Lafferty,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “I always do. I’m a very resourceful guy.”