Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
I hold up the price tag and wince. Rose peers at the dress over my shoulder and makes a choking sound.
“You’d think it was sewn with literal gold,” she mutters.
I shake my head, returning it to the rack. We’ve been at it all morning, searching for the kind of dress that’s appropriate to wear to your former-rival-turned-almost-lover’s high school reunion. But everything that has caught my eye has either been too informal or too expensive.
“What about that one?” Rose points at a crimson mini that would struggle to cover my ass. She rolls her eyes at my scowl. “I told you, you’ve either gotta dress like a bombshell…or his true love. Those are the only two options.”
“Sorry, and what does one’s true love dress like?”
Rose turns me by my shoulders until I’m facing a champagne-colored slip with lace detailing. “That,” she whispers.
And yeah, all right, I can’t disagree.
“Against your coloring?” She whistles. “He’ll fall to his knees, mark my words.”
I graze my knuckles down the buttery fabric, sighing as I picture pulling on the dress. Or, better yet, Taylor letting it drop to his bedroom floor.
“Orrr,” Rose begins, drawing out the word. “You can always go with that .”
I’m maneuvered again until I’m staring at a wine-colored halter top and matching skirt. This ensemble is tighter, cinched in a way I know will emphasize my every curve.
Rose wiggles her brows. “Am I good, or am I good?”
“You’re good,” I agree. “But…” She moans and I try not to laugh. “ But they’re out of my price range.”
“You haven’t even checked the tags!”
I don’t have to. The white T-shirts in this store cost a day’s salary. I don’t want to imagine what a formal dress would do to my bank account. “Do you think they have a clearance rack?”
Rose’s expression turns sour. “I don’t know, cheapskate. Check in the way back.”
I stick out my tongue but do as she says. I let my hands graze against silken blouses and velvet pants only the Havens could afford as I search the store for anything with a big red discount tag.
And come back empty-handed.
“All right, should we try the Gap next?” I start to ask before Rose whirls around, shoving two shopping bags into my hands. My eyes bug out at her.
“Bombshell and first love. Now you don’t have to choose,” she says smugly.
“Rose!” Tears well in my eyes as she beams at me. “You did not have to buy these for me!”
Her grin turns mischievous. “I didn’t. Reid Sterling did. He said I could put all my work expenses on his card.”
I freeze. “You did not! In what universe does this constitute as a work expense ?”
She’s unperturbed. “The world in which I worked very hard and these dresses were very expensive.” She giggles when I try to push the bags back at her. “Besides, his fiancé told me to get myself an anniversary gift. I’m coming up on one year working for the hottest couple alive.”
We both nod, picturing her stupidly attractive bosses’ faces. “Well, thank you.” I finally cave. “Seriously, Rose, you’re the best friend in the world.”
She fluffs her hair. “I know. Now, let’s get your makeup done, shall we? Loverboy is going to pick you up in two hours.”
Staring at my reflection, I’m halfway convinced my best friend moonlights as a wizard.
“Where did you learn how to do this?” I ask, a little breathlessly.
Rose twirls a mascara wand. “I was really into makeup gurus back in high school.”
I let out a low whistle. Somehow, she’s contoured my face to look like I regularly sleep a full eight hours. She’s highlighted the golden undertones in my skin while bringing a pinkish blush to my cheeks. I look like me…if I ate balanced meals and had normal cortisol levels.
“This reminds me of high school,” she says with a little giggle. “I haven’t done your makeup in years.”
“Uh, I don’t remember you having these kinds of skills at prom.”
“Prom?” Rose leans in, meeting my eyes through the mirror. “Babe, I was thinking about the hour I spent beating your face before that last basketball game.”
I fall still. “I forgot about that.” I was so convinced that day would change everything. Rose had come over to my house early that morning, hyping me up as I baked the blondies. It was the first time we ever experimented with my makeup, and I went to wait at Taylor’s gym feeling so confident. He would ask me out, or, at least for my name—I was sure of it.
A strained laugh slips through my lips. The irony of the situation is not lost on me. Ten years later, and I’m still hoping to impress him. Whereas I’m still not sure what he thinks of me. Even tonight’s date is a mystery. Did he ask me because he wanted me , or because he wanted company.
Rose sees something on my face that has her pinching her lips. “Did he ever thank you for those brownies anyway?”
“You mean the blondies?”
Her brows scrunch together. “I’m pretty sure you made brownies.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before pulling it out again. “No, Taylor doesn’t like chocolate. I spent forever coming up with that blondie recipe.” And Taylor had thanked me. Just not in the way I expected. “I don’t even know if he ended up eating them,” I murmur. He promised to find me after the basketball game. I waited in the gym for a full hour after everyone had left for the night, but he never came. My second conversation with Taylor ended up being my last.
For the rest of the school year, I wondered what happened. I thought about visiting Arroyo High again…but without any more basketball games to use as an excuse, I never did gain the courage. Why he never came back to find me has remained a mystery.
“Well,” Rose drawls, spinning my seat around. “He’s definitely going to eat your brownies tonight.”
“Blondies,” I correct. And then, “What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re going to wear the bombshell outfit.”
Rose has added shadow to deepen my eyes and painted my lips a warm red. At least for tonight, I have to agree: “Bombshell it is.”
She helps me tie the halter top and we stare at my reflection in the mirror. The set fits me perfectly—hanging onto my every curve like a satiny caress.
“Dude, you’re smoking,” Rose whispers reverently.
“I owe it all to you,” I say, just as quietly. “Thank you.”
She rolls her eyes—I suspect to keep tears from welling up. “Yeah, yeah. All right, I’m going to run down and grab something from my car. When’s your not-boyfriend getting here?”
I glance at my phone. “Twenty-five minutes.”
Rose salutes me. “See you in a sec.”
I turn back to my reflection when I hear my front door slam. I fiddle with the ties of my top, cursing when I accidentally pull one loose.
“Rose!” I call out, hearing her steps coming back up my stairway. “Rose, get in here, I need you!”
I face my bed, holding the ties out for Rose as her steps pause in my room. Warm hands skim my back, and every part of me stiffens. Sure fingers tie my straps into a neat bow before trailing down to rest on my hips.
“You’re early,” I breathe, turning around to take in Taylor.
He’s as handsome as ever in slacks and a black tee. But best of all is the soft smile dimpling his cheeks.
“I ran into your friend downstairs. She told me to come up,” he murmurs. His eyes slip from my face and trail down my body. Gooseflesh pebbles my arms as his lips part. When his gaze returns to mine, hunger slackens his jaw.
“Typical Rose.” I shake my head, too distracted to be annoyed with her scheming. “You look good, Hedlund.”
“You’re breathtaking.”
My reply catches in my throat. He said the words plainly, like he was stating a fact. And by the way he’s gazing at me in open-mouthed wonder, I believe him.
Thank you, Rose, I think, grateful we decided on the bombshell ensemble. But something tells me it wouldn’t have really mattered what I wore. No guy has ever looked at me the way Taylor is doing now. Like he’s seeing past the satin and shimmering makeup, taking stock of who I am at my core. Taylor’s gazing at me like he sees all of me—and whatever he’s found is more than enough.
“I’m so glad you agreed to come,” he says, voice a bit rough. He reaches for me, thumbs grazing my cheeks as he pulls me into a kiss. I let him prove how glad he is for about ten more seconds before I pull away.
“Rose spent way too long on this makeup for me to ruin it,” I say with a laugh. “You’re on a strict kissing ban for the rest of the evening.”
His expression falls before something yanks his smirk right back up. “You know, there are other places I can kiss you that won’t ruin a thing,” he murmurs, stepping closer.
“Oh yeah?” My question turns into a squeal as he picks me up bridal-style, depositing me on the edge of my bed.
I wait for him to push me down, handle me the way he did back at the spa. There’s a wild look in his eyes that suggests he’s dying to get me out of my clothes. But then his body goes still, and Taylor’s expression turns dazed. I push myself up on my elbows, studying his face.
A faint flush has stained his cheeks, and the hands still gripping my hips are shaking. Shaking like he’s nervous . A little thrill runs through me at the thought. Too often I’m the one in this position—anxious to prove myself to him. But when he wets his lips, I get the feeling he’s the one overthinking his every move. For once, the inscrutable Taylor is worried he won’t live up to my expectations.
And I cannot get enough of it.
Smirking to myself, I wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him down onto the bed. Before he can say a word, I flip our positions. Taylor’s eyes go wide as I drift down his body, hands moving to his belt buckle.
“Ayla, wait—”
But I cut him off. “Shh. You look nervous, Hedlund. Why don’t I help you relax?”
His lids grow heavy as I take my time unzipping his pants.
“You seem tense. I can’t imagine why.” A smirk teases my lips as I run my hand down Taylor’s length. He lets out a low groan, eyes fixed on mine as I help him slide off his slacks.
I keep my grin even when my mouth grows dry. It’s been too long since I’ve done anything like this, and never with someone who makes me feel the way Taylor does. Some of my nerves return as I wrap my hand around his base, pumping him through his underwear. His breathing goes ragged as I touch him, and the sight of him slowly coming undone fills me with the courage I need.
“I knew you always liked my mouth,” I whisper before pushing off his boxers and licking up his length. Taylor is transfixed, his eyes blinking back to mine every time they squeeze shut.
I groan when I take him into my mouth, the sound almost drowned out by a moan of his own. I work my hand up and down his length, finding a rhythm that has him trembling beneath me.
“What was that, Hedlund?” I ask, coming up for air. “You want me to stop?”
His answering growl brings a giggle to my lips. “Stop and there will be hell to pay,” he manages to grind out.
The thought brings another laugh out of me. And that’s us—pushing when the other pulls. We tease and mock and make the other so angry they become the only thing we think about. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize how much fun sparring with him is.
A small smile pulls at Taylor’s lips when he catches mine. He reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. He gathers the rest in a low ponytail, and all of a sudden, I’m no longer the one calling the shots.
Taylor bucks into my mouth, guiding me to match his pace. I gasp around him, hollowing my cheeks to deepen his pleasure. And, somehow, that’s all it takes to summon my own. I find myself clenching, rubbing my thighs together as liquid heat pools at my core. I’m vaguely aware I’m moving my hips as I suck, dragging my core against his hard thighs. Taylor watches my every move, eyes growing dark when he feels my arousal.
“Just like that, baby,” he groans. “Keep doing that, and I’m going to—”
I keep the pace he set even after his grip loosens, his body beginning to spasm beneath me. My eyes are on his face when his jaw goes tight, and just the sight of his pleasure sends sparks shooting down my spine.
I drink him up, sucking as much as I can until his body falls still. Only then do I pull him from my lips with a wet pop . Taylor is watching me through lowered lids when I straighten my spine. I toss my hair over my shoulder, flashing him the same kind of prim look that used to make his cheeks ruddy with annoyance.
Too bad they’re already flushed pink. I start to open my mouth when Taylor’s hands shoot out. I’m lifted up his body before I can protest. He begins pushing up my skirt, a low growl rumbling through his chest when he finds I’m not wearing any underthings.
“My turn,” is his only warning before he drops me over his mouth.
A sound of surprise shoots out of my throat, that quickly lowers into a moan. “Oh my god,” I murmur, reaching for the wall. Taylor’s hands wrap around my thighs, holding me close as he licks up my slit.
I’ve never done this before—nothing even close to it. But I’m moving my hips before self-consciousness can set in. Taylor voices his approval with a low moan, his tongue slipping through my folds.
I cry out, neck arching back as he licks me, circling my clit until my thighs begin to shake. I’m whimpering, making the kinds of noises I would be embarrassed by if my senses weren’t otherwise occupied. All I feel is Taylor. His steady hands and cruel tongue take me somewhere devoid of modesty. All I know is sensation as he eats me. I’m so stupidly wet, no doubt dripping down his jaw as he feasts.
“T-Taylor…” I swallow, trying to hang on as pleasure rips through me. “I’m going to—”
His grip tightens on my thighs and I know he’s telling me to let go, to give in. I do as he demands with a muffled cry. He draws out my pleasure until I’m a shaking, whimpering mess. The orgasm crests and crests again, so unlike any other I’ve had before. Taylor catches me as I slump against the headboard. He pulls me back down against his chest, wrapping two protective arms over my back.
“You have no idea how glad I am that you don’t have any shared walls,” he murmurs into my hair, a smile in his voice. “I like how loud you get for me.”
I try to hide my eyes. “Shut up, Hedlund.”
I can practically see him swallowing a retort as I crawl off the bed, trying to smooth down my skirt. “You better hope my makeup is still intact,” I warn, too scared to actually check the mirror. “Rose will kill me if even a single hair is out of—”
Taylor cuts me off with a long kiss. I melt against him, tasting my release on his lips. He forces me open, sliding his tongue against mine. My nipples peak at the sensation, arousal already pooling between my still-damp thighs.
“You know, I really do have a fascination with this,” he whispers, tapping my lips. “You know what I think about when you mouth off at work?”
I shiver, shaking my head.
Taylor’s lips slant into the cruel smirk I know so well. “Just last week when you wouldn’t shut up about me missing a decimal point in that expense report…you were so infuriating, you know that, Montes? So fucking bratty I was tempted to bend you over my desk and teach you a lesson.”
There’s no kindness on Taylor’s face and I take a step back, desire stealing my voice. He looks down at me, turning me by the hips until I’m lowered over my vanity.
“I’ve pictured this exactly, slipping a hand beneath your little skirts.” As he speaks, his fingers inch up my thigh. I’m trembling by the time his palm descends over my ass. He gives it two light taps before sinking his fingers into my cheek. I let out a little sound as Taylor chuckles. “I bet you’d be wet for it, wouldn’t you, Ayla? Despite that sharp mouth of yours, you like being put in your place.”
I want to tell him no, he’s wrong—I’d never submit to him. But the slickness between my thighs betrays me. Taylor clucks his tongue when his fingers find the dripping evidence.
“Baby, you’re absolutely soaked,” he chides. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from begging him. But my hips move on their own, pushing back into his, urging him to touch where I need him the most.
Another low laugh. “You’re so perfect like this, Montes. You know what? I think you deserve a reward.”
I practically sigh with relief when he reaches between my thighs, dragging his hand down my slit. “Thank you,” I breathe, somehow knowing it’s what he wants to hear.
He rewards me by pressing a thumb against my clit. “You’re always so buttoned up. So carefully controlled,” he whispers into my ear. “You can let loose with me. I’ve got you.”
His lips dip to my neck as he pushes a finger inside of me. Chills sweep down my spine as I push back, feeling his cock harden against my ass. His other hand moves to my clit as he works me, pushing me against his hips until he hits a spot that makes my knees buckle.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” he tells me between kisses. I’m limp in his arms, gasping for breath as he pushes me closer to another orgasm. “You’re everywhere I look. How did that happen, Ayla? Why won’t you leave?” Softer, he says, “Why don’t I want you to?”
His kisses turn tender as his pace slows. I turn my cheek, finding his lips as his fingers curl into me. I gasp into his mouth, his kiss coaxing me through another wave of tremors.
When I turn back around, Taylor’s expression is as soft as his hands on my waist. “Your makeup is intact,” he says, “in case you were about to ask.”
I don’t know what expression I’m wearing as I gaze up at him, but I feel like I’m melting. The butterflies are long gone. All I’m left with is the fizzy, hazy feeling of…happy. Looking at Taylor, I feel stupidly, unexpectedly happy .
Until my gaze lifts over his shoulder…and I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. “My skirt!” I half-shriek. The satin has gained about a dozen new creases and there’s a damp spot embarrassingly close to my thighs. “I can’t wear this,” I moan. “Taylor!”
He holds up his hands. “You only warned me about the makeup.”
I tug off my top, chucking it at him. It hits him in the face, momentarily distracting him as I reach for the backup dress. I’ve just managed to tug it over my head when Taylor looks up.
And if I appreciated his reaction to my bombshell ensemble…it doesn’t compare to this. His eyes go wide as a furious blush burns his cheeks. He glances quickly away, as if to steel himself, before letting his gaze anchor on me.
The slip might cover more skin, but by the way Taylor’s staring, you’d never know it. I’m tempted to blush myself as he opens and closes his mouth over and over again, at a loss for words.
“You’re deadly,” he finally manages to utter. “I always knew you’d be my undoing. Right from the start.”