Chapter 18
“W hat about Malin?” Ever asks, giving more consideration to the bear than I thought she would. Honestly, I assumed she’d just throw it away.
Last night at dinner, sans Arthur again, she did this, too—give name suggestions, none of which I liked. The bear wasn’t meant to be a gift. More of an exemplification. She wanted a prop. I gave her one. But for some reason, she’s taken a real liking to the thing and now she’s obsessed with naming it. I don’t actually care what she names it, as long as it’s not Crue. I’m not her fucking prop.
I’m not a prop, period.
Before I can give my verdict on the name, she says, “Mm, too close to Milan.”
Another weird thing that happened when I gave Ever that bear is she stopped being such a raging bitch.
“You don’t like Milan?”
She glances over at me. “You do?”
We’re on the way to the Flower Fest and she’s trying to do…something to her hair. It looks fine to me, but she hasn’t stopped fucking with it since we got in the car. Lots of pulling and huffing and inspecting from all angles, followed by more pulling and huffing. What does she expect? She’s using a five-by-two-inch mirror on a visor.
“I’ve never been there…or anywhere.”
Ever’s quiet for a minute, then returns her attention to the mirror, allowing me to breathe a little easier. Ever Munreaux is hands down the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, including airbrushed models on magazines. I’ve become immune to everyday Ever, but this is not everyday Ever. She’s wearing a lot of makeup, more than she puts on for school, and she’s…overwhelming. My lungs are overwhelmed by her right now. I am overwhelmed by her right now. If this isn’t what breathtaking is, I don’t know what is because she’s literally interrupting my breathing pattern over here.
“You’d like Milan.”
“I thought you said you didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want to name my bear after it.”
“Something bad happen there?”
She groans, I think more about her hair than the question because she drops her hands to her thighs in a defeated gesture before turning and telling me, “No. I just associate Milan with my father. There’s a big convention there every year that Munreaux Motorcycles is always front and center at.”
“Isn’t being front and center your thing?”
Without answering she returns to yanking at her hair.
“What’s the problem?” I ask after the seventeenth huff in thirty seconds.
“It’s this piece. It keeps coming out.”
A piece? The way she’s been tugging at her head I thought it was the whole damn scalp that was the issue.
“No one’s gonna notice a fucking piece of your hair when you’ve got…” I wave my right hand over at her vaguely. “Other stuff going on.”
“Like my boobs, belly button, short skirt, pom-poms, clapping, and…what else was it?”
“Chants,” I supply for her, even though it hurts my ego. “In my defense, I didn’t know what cheer was.” I don’t think most people do.
Ever twists her head my way, and without taking my eyes off the road I can tell she’s grinning.
My lungs struggle to perform their basic functions.
I shake my head at myself. I should’ve called it cheerleading just to get under her skin. We’ve gone too long without fighting. I don’t like it.
I don’t like her . She may be drop-dead gorgeous outside, but she’s ugly as fuck inside. That’s what I have to remember.
That and how to draw air. God. Damn.
“You think you know what cheer is?”
“After the other night, seeing you…and Eighmey, I think I have a pretty good idea.”
She faces forward again.
Yep, that did it. The mere mention of Eighmey pissed her right the fuck off, just like I wanted it to. I prefer Ever angry. At least then I know what to expect. It’s when she’s nice that she slips past my guard.
She tries reaching in the backseat, but I block her arm with mine.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?”
“Getting my hairspray.”
“You can’t spray that in here.”
“I’ll roll down the window.”
Another attempt.
Another block.
She’s pissed off and probably wants to slap me. I’ve been hit by her enough times to know she’ll use anything as a weapon, even hairspray.
“Stop. I’m fucking driving,” I tell her when she tries a third time with no luck.
“What’s wrong? Scared you won’t get away with vehicular manslaughter twice?”
I roll down her window, letting the wind have at her hair, and not just one piece, but all the pieces.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
“Are you shitting me?” she screeches, her head in her hands as she bends at the waist, her chest to her knees.
The second the window’s back up, she bolts upright to examine the rat’s nest that’s now on her head.
My lungs pause their malfunctioning to release a laugh.
I take it back. People like Ever Munreaux do have embarrassing moments.
“You’re fixing this,” she announces once we’re parked.
“I don’t know how to do hair. I’ll probably only make it worse.”
She doesn’t say a word, just continues staring at me expectantly, so I get her bag and climb out, muttering curses as I go. No more pranks. Everything I do to her bites me in the ass and I wind up having to take care of her afterward.
After opening her door, I have her sit on the Sapphire’s hood.
She digs through her shit until she finds her earbuds and a green rock.
“What’s that one?”
“Jade. For luck.”
“I think I need that more than you,” I tell her honestly.
This is going to be a disaster. I don’t even style my own hair.
I don’t have hair to style. I buzz it for that very reason.
With a smirk, Ever slips the heavy stone into my front pocket, making a noticeable bulge in my pants. From the jade, not from my cock.
Once again, she removes the hat from my head.
“Hey—”
“You have to be able to see what you’re doing.”
“I can see just fine with it.”
She tucks my hat in her bag.
Whatever. What-fucking-ever. It’s not like we’re at a fucking festival or anything.
“Just…tell me what I need to do.”
“First, take the bow out so you can see what you’re doing.”
I pull the bow off, causing a horrible hiss from Ever as she jerks away from me.
“What? I did what you said.”
“Not like that. You have to be careful, Crue.”
She spends so much time calling me Major, I forget how much I like her saying my real name.
“Sorry, miss.”
I pick up a muttered, “Annoying,” that I ignore. It’s not my fault her instructions were vague.
She walks me through what pieces of hair to move and where to move them. My fingers are bigger than hers and not nearly as skilled—at doing hair—so some maneuvers take several tries. Only needing the front part of her hair pinned in some sort of bump, I pick the bow back up.
“All right, explain exactly what to do with this.”
“Bend over.”
My eyebrows crash into each other. What?
“Pull down your pants.”
My pants?
“And shove it up your—”
“Ever.”
Her laugh hits my ears, tickling them, but I’m already shaking my head, trying to clear it all away. Little shit.
She tells me how to attach the bow, this time accurately.
Her head gets a little wobbly when I’m straightening it, so I grip where her neck meets her shoulder to steady her and next thing I know I’m sinking into her from behind, my lips against her ear, groaning how good she feels as I bottom out in her hot, wet cunt.
My balls aching, I curl my fingers around her collarbone and massage the back of her neck with my thumb as I debate what to do.
If I push, I can watch myself withdraw from her, those globes on full display as I drive into her over and over again, every inch of me gliding along every inch of her. But if I pull, I can feel her toned back tense against my front as I pump into her with short thrusts that keep me buried to the hilt as flames creep up my spine.
Decisions, decisions.
A real groan makes its way out of my throat as my feet shuffle forward.
“Did the hairband break?”
I release Ever’s neck like it caught fire and jump back.
“No. It’s… I’m almost done.”
I poke at her hair and jostle the bow until my hard-on’s gone down enough not to show through my pants.
Okay, it was Ever’s rock at first, but now…yeah, it’s me, too.
Another step back to take it all in and…
Uh.
“Turn around. Let me see it from the front.”
Standing, Ever spins to face me. I have to work hard not to meet her eyes. She might see it there—the need.
Her hair… It’s…
The corners of my lips sink. I knew this was a bad idea.
“What did you do?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. I couldn’t replicate what I just did if someone held a gun to my head. I thought I was doing a decent job…until I grabbed her from behind and fantasy overtook reality. It felt so real. Too real. The fact that it wasn’t makes me feel at a loss. Like I’m mourning, grieving something I won’t ever get. I want that to be real. Bad. I want to have Ever Munreaux, my protectee, not only stretched out around my cock but at my fucking mercy.
She examines herself in the passenger-side window before shooting me a flat expression, flatter than the bow drooping forward, threatening to cover her forehead.
“I warned you.”
One at a time, she puts her earbuds in, and says, “I’ll get someone else to fix it,” then presses Play on her phone.
“Why did you ask me to then?”
Shaking her head, she points at her ear. Using that same hand, she motions at my dick.
“I need it!” she says ten decibels too loud, gaining attention—and scrutiny—from more than one passerby.
“Miss?” I say with my hands out, glancing around at the judgmental stares. “Now’s not really the time…” Five minutes ago was, but right now, we’ve got a crowd of families observing us.
Ever’s gaze narrows on my mouth.
“My jade! I need it for good luck!”
Disappointment washes over me at the realization jade isn’t my dick’s name, and I hand over the rock.
Lucky stone in hand, Ever takes off without me.
It’s funny because normally, she obsesses over having a perfect appearance at all times, but here, she doesn’t seem bothered at all walking around looking like she got launched out of a tornado.
“Do you need your bag?” I call out before remembering her earbuds are in.
Without turning around, she sticks a thumb up in answer.
If she heard that, she heard everything else I said, proving exactly why I can’t let my guard down around her. Because she’s always playing me.
I tug my hat back on, pulling the bill low.
Walking side by side through the festival, she says, “Silas?” and I shake my head, not even needing to clarify.
“Xerxes?”
Assuming that shit’s rhetorical, I don’t bother with a response. Xerxes is not a good teddy bear name.
We spot a bunch of orange-and-white uniforms under a giant canopy tent. The girl Ever calls Scoops is the first to notice us. Her face is covered by as much makeup as Ever’s, making her unrecognizable but not enough to hide the horror in her eyes as they settle on Ever.
“Please tell me the other girl walked away worse off.”
Ever chuckles. “You should know me better than that.”
I think she’s going to say “I’m too prim and proper and prissy to fight,” but she ends with, “I wouldn’t let her walk away at all,” and I almost laugh, too. Ever can’t fight. She can get a cheap shot in like no one I’ve ever met, but fight? Actually fight? She’s more likely to annihilate her enemies with that mouth of hers than physically hurt them.
“It’s my fault,” I say. I don’t know why.
Scoops swings her gaze to me, her eyebrows almost as high as the tent we’re under. “Really?” She drags the word out into about five syllables more than necessary.
“I accidentally rolled down the window on the drive here.”
Now Ever’s giving me suspicious looks, too. I’m not telling the truth about the car ride. Ever brings out the worst in me. In the heat of the moment, my actions seem justified, but after the fact, that shit’s embarrassing.
“Can you help her?” I ask her friend.
Scoops rolls her eyes and grins. “Like you even have to ask.”
When she whisks Ever over to a corner, I follow, setting Ever’s bag next to her chair.
“Gimme,” her friend says, her hand out by Ever’s face.
Ever takes out an earbud and gives it to her. Scoops pops it in her ear, then gets to work undoing all of my…work. God, I did a terrible job.
Crossing my arms, I stand almost elbow to elbow with her, watching everything she’s doing. She gives me a quick side-eye but doesn’t say anything. She does sing though, clueing me in on what they’re listening to. “Fly” by Nicki Minaj and Rihanna.
“Major?”
“Yeah?”
I don’t know when I started responding to that name.
“Can you get the tape out of my bag?”
“What do you need tape for?” I ask, leaning down to see what her friend just did to get the bow to stand up like that.
“To cover my tattoo.”
Cover her rib tattoo? Or does she have another one that I haven’t seen yet?
“What’s wrong with your tattoo?”
“Nothing. It’s just the rule. All tattoos have to be covered up and piercings have to be removed.”
That’s fucking stupid. Her tattoo’s not even offensive.
“Uh, yeah. Hold on. I will when she’s done.”
“Who?”
She tries to twist her head, but Scoops keeps her straight.
“Um.” I glance at Scoops. “What’s your name?”
To me, she says, “Technically, Dakota, but everyone just calls me Kota.” Then to Ever, “Your bodyguard’s watching me like a hawk, making sure I don’t assassinate you.”
“That’s not it,” I’m quick to say. “I’m just learning.”
This time Kota lets Ever turn her head my way. Two sets of black-outlined eyes blink at me.
“Are you interested in becoming a hairdresser?” Kota questions.
“No. I just wanna be able to do this…” Fingers spread, I wave my hand over Ever’s hair. “By myself. If I have to.”
Kota and Ever exchange their own side-eyes.
“Do you have any colleagues you can recommend? I think I’d like having a bodyguard.”
“Personal protection agent.”
Ever snorts. “Don’t you have a stepbrother to protect you now?”
“What if he’s the one I need protection from?”
“Do you?”
“Are you in danger, miss?” I ask Kota. I don’t know of any other personal protection agents but I could call…Ronny, maybe. I’m not sure how great of terms we’re on after that awkward sobriety test, but as a police officer, it’s his job to serve and protect. At least that’s what it said on the side of his cruiser.
“No. No. Khaos is just…” Kota sighs. “Vexing.”
“Then you can imagine how much worse it’d be having a bodyguard. They give you zero privacy.”
I scowl at the side of Ever’s face as she returns to her previous position of facing the tent wall, cradling her green rock in both hands. Zero privacy? After our run together last night, I gave her two uninterrupted hours in the butterfly conservatory, then she spent the rest of the night in her room, also alone.
“Who needs privacy when you have a man that can do your hair?”
Kota elbows me, but I shake my head. I’m not Ever’s man and I can’t do hair.
While Kota said it jokingly, there’s no humor in Ever’s tone when she says, “I do.”
I don’t fucking get her. First, she went out of her way to try to make me quit. Then, she reprimanded Paris, embarrassed Eighmey, and did something to Johanna, because according to Ever Munreaux, I’m hers. Her bodyguard. Her prop. Hers. I’m not a bodyguard and I’m nobody’s prop but…
But being hers…
It doesn’t matter because now she’s back to acting like she’d give anything to get rid of me.
Until someone else comes sniffing around my cock, then I’m sure she’ll be pulling that “mine” shit all over again.
I don’t care. As long as that money’s hitting my bank account regularly, I don’t give a fuck what she calls me. I’m already answering to Major.
“Can you show me how to do the bow again?” I ask Kota before pulling out my phone and setting it to Video.
I’m trying to record Kota repeating the same motions as before just slower, her palms lifted to show me under the bow, her fingers twisted up in its band, but Ever’s hand rubbing at her throat keeps distracting me. She hasn’t gotten any new hickeys since I put up the sensors in her room, and the old ones have already faded significantly. Soon she’ll be a pristine canvas, nobody’s mark on her whatsoever.
Not even mine.