I squeeze my eyes shut as I hit the “enter” button on my laptop. Letting out a long breath, I finally open my eyes.

Shit.

I reluctantly scroll down the page and click onto the second and third pages of my Google search.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Last night I had gone to yet another club event with Jordan, and a paparazzo had snuck in and snapped a picture of Jordan and I kissing in a VIP booth. And now, thanks to the clever detective work of those stalker journalists, I was easily identified.

I click on the first article and read through it. It’s aptly titled: “Meet Jordan’s new mystery lady: Daphni Monroe’s little sister!”

Great. Even though I’ve somehow managed to snag an incredibly gorgeous, world-famous boyfriend, I’m still relegated to being “Daphni Monroe’s little sister.”

The article goes on to include an interview with a source “very close” to us who shared that we fell in love on tour, even though my jealous sister, who is also in love with Jordan, tried to tear us apart. Apparently, Jordan felt that Daphni, at twenty-six years old, was too old, so he settled on me. Wow, this was definitely some high-quality journalism at work here.

Every other article somehow managed to report the same garbage while reprinting that mortifying picture of me and Jordan, his hand on my thigh and tongue down my throat, surrounded by bottles of liquor in some dark club. It was not my most flattering picture. Still, we had been dating for three weeks now, spending almost every single night together, so I should count myself lucky that we’ve made it this long.

I close my laptop and shoot out a text to Jordan. Did you see?

Yeah, babe. I’m sorry.

Not your fault. I write back. People suck.

Still, let me take you out tonight. Make it up to you ;)

I can’t help the small smile that inches up my face as I read his message and type out a text back. Can’t say no to that…

We finalize our plans for tonight and I decide a hot bath is in order. As I wait for the tub to fill up, I clean up the books I had sprawled across my bed and tuck them back into my bag. We are scheduled to leave first thing in the morning, and this nomadic lifestyle is beginning to wear me down. For the past three weeks, my entire life has revolved around studying for my LSATs, spending my free time with Jordan, and spending every other free minute evading Daphni and Liam. Luckily that hasn’t been too difficult, since Jordan is on an entirely different PR schedule with a whole different team, entourage, and most importantly, plane. When I do see Daphni, I’ve managed to keep it brief and make an excuse to quickly leave. I do feel a twinge of guilt when I see how sad she looks, but then I remember all the shitty things she’s said to me and I easily get over it.

I make my way back to the tub and pin my hair up before sliding into the hot water. The different jets in the tub each hit me at a different angle on my body, helping to unleash some tension in my muscles I hadn’t even realized was there.

I let out a soft moan as I feel the stream of water coast over my exhausted body. I sweep the lavender-scented bar of soap down my arm and gently shift my body so one of the jets in the large tub skims my upper thigh. All this tension from fighting with Daphni and the stress of studying starts to fade away as the warm, soapy lavender water envelopes me. Still, the jets are far too tempting for me to ignore. After all, nothing like a little self-love to help ease all the stresses of life, am I right?

I move again, adjusting my body so when I settle in the bath water again, the jet now directly hit at the folds enveloping my clit. I slowly start to sway, rolling my hips to grant the jets more liberal access to that perfect spot. I close my eyes and let my head roll back as my own hand reaches to grasp my breast and gently pinch my nipple.

I let out another moan as I continue to thrust toward the jet, letting the stream hit my hard nub and send gentle vibrations throughout my body. As I ease into the rhythm, teasing and kneading my breast, I remember the picture of Jordan and me at the club, with his hand on my thigh, brushing my skin and my mouth open to his. What the picture thankfully hadn’t caught was Jordan’s other hand coasting over my breast. In fact, if the photographer hadn’t found us, there was a possibility that I may have gone back to Jordan’s hotel room that night. After we had seen the photographers, I had been so shaken up that I had wanted to head back to the safety of the hotel immediately.

I try to remember Jordan’s touch and the excitement of his hands on my body. I slide my hand down my belly until it finds its way down to the warmth between my legs. My fingers join the jet's gentle assault on my clit and I let out another loud moan.

I stroke myself more frantically, imagining what it would feel like for Jordan to be inside me, pumping into me. Another moan escapes my lips and my body clenches. I am so close. I feel my toes curl and as I feel my orgasm approach, I clench my eyes closed. Except now, instead of seeing Jordan's body over mine, I see Liam's dark-grey eyes staring down at me as his thick arms, covered in black ink, pin me down and his large cock sinks deep inside me. The image of Liam, lost in lust and pleasure as he mercilessly fucks me, sends me over the edge and I let out a cry as I feel my own release.

As I freeze, letting my climax take hold, the images of Liam slowly fade. I almost feel a wave of disappointment and loneliness as I come back down from my orgasm, realizing that I’m alone in this tub. And that the one person I do want is not the same man I am seeing tonight.