Chapter 8
EVERLEE – DON’T PUSH THE INTERCOM BUTTON WHEN YOU’RE GETTING YOURSELF OFF IN HIS SHOWER
The sun heats my face as my cheek brushes against the soft silk sheets, but something feels different. It’s too still, too quiet, like the room is waiting for me to notice what’s different.
Wait.
Where am I?
As I slowly open my eyes, an unfamiliar room comes into focus as the hazy blur from sleep fades away.
Where the hell am I? My brain startles awake, heart hammering in my chest, every instinct screaming before my eyes can focus.
Pinching my eyes closed, I try to remember the events from last night. Slowly, it starts coming back, piece by piece. The party, the dancing, the creep, the bathroom with Callum, then nothing.
My eyes shoot open. I’m in a large open room with a contemporary industrial feel. There is a brick accent wall, hardwood floors, exposed wooden beams, and floor to ceiling windows trimmed in black. There’s a chair in the room's corner and a dresser along the opposite wall.
To my left is an open shower that’s as large as my entire apartment with a glass wall and a square-shaped showerhead hanging on the end of a down rod. Just to the right of the shower is another chair with a man sitting in it.
A mangled sound erupts from me as I pull the sheets up to my chin and roll into a ball.
“Hey there. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s me, Emmett, from the club.”
I shake my head in confusion, unable to recognize him. How much did I have to drink last night?
“Bartender.” He lifts his shirt, showing his nipple ring.
My body relaxes a little, even though I’m still confused.
He holds his hands up. “You’re safe. This is Callum’s room. He slept on the couch. Your phone is beside you on the nightstand charging. Lizzy was worried about you, but Callum texted her and said you were fine and would call her this morning.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see my phone just as he said, with a missed call and several unread text messages.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just worried about you, and Callum thought you’d freak out less if you saw a somewhat friendly face.” He plasters on a big smile.
“Callum? What happened?”
“I don’t know all the details, but while Callum was cleaning you up last night, you passed out.”
“I passed out?”
“Sometimes adrenaline spikes can do that.”
“How did I end up here?”
His lips pull. “Like I said, I don’t know all the details. Callum’s waiting for you downstairs. Breakfast is also cooked. I made pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, and Eggs Benedict. Along with a tray of fresh fruit. I didn’t know what you’d want.” He chuckles softly.
“Thank… you?”
He smiles. “I’m glad you’re okay. When I saw Knox walking by with that guy, I was worried about you.
Then I found out you’d done that. Remind me never to cross you.
” He chuckles, standing up. “Feel free to use the shower to clean up. Also, Callum bought some clothes he thought would fit you. They’re over there.
” He points to another chair to my left.
How many chairs does one room need?
“We’ll be downstairs.”
I nod, still too stunned to speak. It’s like my ears can hear the words coming out of his mouth, but I can’t process them.
He pauses with his hand on the knob. “Would you like coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
“You got it.” He smiles, then closes the door.
Staring at the ceiling, I rub my face and listen for any identifiable sounds, but there’s just silence. I roll over and grab my phone to look at the messages.
1:06AM
Lizzy: Girl, where are you?
Lizzy: You better pick up.
Lizzy: I just saw douche McDouche being escorted out.
Lizzy: I went to the bathroom, but you weren’t there.
Lizzy: I’m about to use my find a bitch app.
Everlee: This is Callum. Everlee is safe. There was an incident, and she passed out. I’m taking her to my place to monitor her.
Lizzy: Callum?
Everlee: Tony knows me.
Lizzy: SHIT.
Lizzy: The owner.
Lizzy: Sorry for the shit.
Lizzy: Shit.
Lizzy: I’m drunk.
Lizzy: What’s your address?
Everlee: It’s late. You should get some rest. But you’re welcome to come over tomorrow.
Everlee: 15087 N Pulgam Rd
Everlee: (555) 637-0928
Everlee: That’s my direct line if you need to contact me.
Lizzy: She’s ok?
Lizzy: Like for real?
Everlee: Yes. He definitely got the worst of it. She’s safe and will stay safe.
Lizzy: Thank you.
Lizzy: Tony also says you’re legit.
Lizzy: He wants me to tell you legit was my word, not his.
Lizzy: Oh, sorry. He didn’t really want me to tell you that.
Lizzy: Ignore me.
Lizzy: But thank you.
Lizzy: Love what you’ve done with the place.
Lizzy: Shit.
Lizzy: Sorry.
Lizzy: Bye.
Everlee: If you need a ride home, please call me on my personal cell.
8:53AM
Lizzy: Are you still alive, hooker?
Lizzy: There was no coke off a dick, but it was close.
Lizzy: Shit.
Lizzy: I assume you have your phone.
9:42AM
Everlee: Hey. I’m alive. I didn’t pull a Betty.
Lizzy: Everlee! Oh my God!
Everlee: Sorry. Just got up. Going to take a shower, then go downstairs and get some answers.
Lizzy: Are you there?
Lizzy: At his house?
Lizzy: You are. Duh.
Lizzy: Is it nice?
Everlee: I’m only in the bedroom. I don’t remember the rest.
Lizzy: Girlll. Tea time.
Everlee: Nothing happened.
Worried that I lied, I quickly lift the sheets and find I’m wearing a t-shirt over my outfit from last night.
Everlee: I’ll text you in a little.
Lizzy: I’m coming over to pick you up.
Lizzy: I need a shower and coffee first.
Lizzy: See you soon.
Everlee: XXOX
I’m still smiling as I pad across the floor to the waiting oversized shower.
Slipping out of my clothes, I fold them into a neat pile and lay them on the chair nearest the shower and walk in.
The shower is so large that I can comfortably move to the side while waiting for the water to warm up.
After a minute, the steam fogs the glass, so I slip beneath the rainfall showerhead and let the water cascade over my shoulders, down my spine, carrying last night’s chaos with it.
Around the shower are nine other jets, three on each wall.
My fingers trace over several buttons on the panel and stop when I get to the one that looks like jets.
I’ve always seen these showers in movies, but never in real life, so of course, I have to try them out.
The first button I press looks like an upside-down funnel, and the lights change in a rainbow-colored pattern.
I push another and music plays. I push a third, and water shoots at me from all sides, causing me to squeal in surprise.
The water hits all over my body, jets angled in certain positions from mid-back to… oh, hello there. Ripples of pleasure dance up my spine, around my shoulders, then down to my core.
No! I will not get off in his shower.
That’s what my mind is saying, but my body is like a raging hormonal teenager who’s been waiting for days now to get off.
Herein lies the problem.
As I debate what to do—or not do—the water takes me to the edge of bliss.
So I can’t turn back now. I mean I could, but let’s be real.
I’ve been unintentionally teasing myself for days with the promise of release.
My eyes roll into the back of my head while my body moves closer to my new favorite jet.
Why have I never done this before?
A moan escapes my lips and I panic, looking around the room, only to remember I’m alone. I press my hands against the wall, ignoring the buttons as the pressure builds. Another moan escapes. “Fuck,” I sigh out, hips softly pulsing.
My legs grow weak as my body climbs, aches, and needs. I step closer, and a deep moan inside of me echoes out. My stomach tightens and then… the angels sing. My legs buckle and I fall to the floor, while the same jet that just got me off pelts me in the back of the head. But I don’t care.
The door bursts open and Callum is standing there, eyes on fire, looking completely feral.
He runs into the room, slamming the door shut and grabs a towel, tossing it at me before racing into the shower fully clothed, pressing a series of buttons on the control panel above my head.
In an instant, the water, lights, and sounds shut off.
I stare at him in disbelief. “What are you doing?” I lash out when I regain control of my tongue.
He looks down at me, his white shirt now transparent and clinging to his body like shrink wrap.
He has muscles, like a lot of them. Fully defined, touch them, feel them, lick them, muscles that I want to run my hands over.
Holy fuck, he is gorgeous and a bit of a badass.
His chest and arms are covered with tattoos, his shirt doing little to hide them, each line of ink daring you to look closer.
His eyes lock on mine, but we’re interrupted by the bulge that’s growing in his pants.
My teeth scrape across my bottom lip as I contemplate how it would look if I sucked him off in the shower.
I still don’t know what happened last night, and for all I know we fucked, and I don’t remember it.
And looking at his body this morning… that would be a goddamn tragedy.
“What are you doing?” he snaps.
His words are like a needle popping my vagina balloon, but it’s trying to find anything to cover the hole to stop the air from escaping. Horn dog.
“What are you doing?” I retort, mustering as much sass as I can.
He takes his shirt off. Not in the overly sexy way one would hope, but in the irritated it’s clinging to me and I need to be free of these constraints kind of way.
“You…” he throws his shirt down. “Put a towel on.”
“I put a towel on?” I’m completely confused, lost in his body.
“No!” he snaps. “Put the towel on.” He points to the one I’m holding in my lap, realizing my breasts are on full display.
“Shit!” I pull it up, covering my chest.
“You…” he shakes his head.
“What’s so hard?” I add, “to say?” When a ‘that’s what she said’ pops into my head, looking at the seam of his pants.
God. Lizzy was right. The real thing is better than all my BOBs and dildos. I’m horny as hell.
I need to get control.
“You had your hand on the speaker button.”
“The speak… er butt- oh fuck.”
Balloon popped.
Total mortification.
I’m drier than the Sahara Desert.
“Did you hear—”
“Yes.”
“Which is why you—”
“Yes.”
My head falls into my hands.
I look up a minute later, words still stuck in my throat.
He runs his hands through his hair, slicking it back, revealing more tattoos on the underside of his arm.
A whimper escapes. He’s a goddamn piece of art. A beautiful, sexy, tattooed piece of art.
He extends his hand, offering to help me up.
Yes, please help me up from my post-orgasm collapsed state on your shower floor.
I adjust the towel so it wraps all the way around me.
“Do you mind if I change?” he asks.
“No… no. Please.”
He steps out of the shower and walks over to his dresser and faces the windows. He slips on a shirt, then pulls off his pants.
Just his pants.
He’s going commando.
Fuck. Shitballs. Motherass.
His ass is perfect. I can’t stop staring. It’s so tight, and…
He looks over his shoulder. “You’re moaning.”
My eyes grow wide, and I turn around. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’d be lying. But I am wondering how many times I can embarrass myself in one morning.
The sounds of his feet padding towards the door cause me to look up, finding him fully dressed.
Regrettably.
“Wait.”
He pauses with his hand on the knob.
“Did we? You and I? Last night?”
“What?” His brow furrows and his eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief.
Is he playing with me? “You know?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did we?” I put my finger through the hole in my other hand. Really fucking mature, Everlee.
“What is that?”
“Oh, my! Did we have success? Shit. Sex. I don’t… remember.”
The room falls into a deafening silence as he saunters over to stand in front of me.
My breath catches in my throat, as if my body can’t decide if it wants to panic or lean in.
Heat rolls off his chest, wrapping around me, and when his knuckles trace down my cheek, my thoughts scatter in every direction.
“One. You passed out. Two, I would never have sex with someone who can’t consent.
And three…” He licks his lips, then frames my face with both hands, his thumbs lightly brushing along my jaw.
His eyes hold mine in a deep, penetrating stare.
“If we had sex, there’d be no chance you’d ever forget it. ”
My head leans into his hand as a breath puffs out because I’m speechless.
Call the fire department because there is a fire in my panties right now. Well, there would be if I were wearing any.
The pad of his thumb traces along my lower lip, and my clit starts to throb.
But then he pulls away and walks to the door.
“Breakfast is ready downstairs.”
The door shuts, and I’m left standing in his room, completely immobilized.
He’s trouble.