The Chase

“Hey, Summer.” One of the players hesitates at the door. He’s got a mop of curly brown hair and a shy expression. “Are there any tickets still available? I checked online and it said the show’s sold out.”

“It is, but all the designers get a block of tickets to give away. I think I have about five left. How many do you need, Chris?”

“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.