Chapter 4
"God, you're beautiful," Tom said as we settled into the Lyft, something about the way he said it made my chest tighten. No pickup line smoothness, no practiced delivery, but simple, honest appreciation that felt foreign after years of LA bullshit.
Unlike most people I'd met in the music scene, Tom didn't feel like he was angling for something. No subtle questions about who I knew or what labels I was talking to. He seemed content to just be here with me, which was either refreshing or suspicious. I hadn't decided yet.
"So what can I expect from your apartment?" I asked, settling back against the seat as his thumb traced circles on my hand.
"House, actually," he said without any of the fake modesty that usually accompanied admissions of wealth in this city.
"Wait, where are we going exactly?" I realized I'd been too distracted to check our destination.
"Malibu."
I laughed, the sound escaping before I could stop it.
Of course.
I studied his clothes more carefully, trying to figure out if this was inherited money or if he'd actually earned it somehow.
"I hope you like it," he said, grinning at my obvious surprise. His eyes briefly flashed with the excitement and pride of a little boy.
"I make good coffee, and I have two horses if you want to ride in the morning."
"You own horses?" The question came out more excited than I'd intended.
"Buttercup and Blossom, both boys," he said, like these were the most normal names in the world.
"Those are both boys?"
"Yep." His casual pride made me smile despite myself.
We spent the rest of the drive talking about horses.
My horses back home, his recent conversion to horse ownership, the way they'd changed how he thought about living in Malibu.
He described them like someone who actually respected what he was dealing with, not trying to dominate or control but finding his place in their world.
Something about that made my stomach flutter in ways that had nothing to do with the tequila.
"You're not what I expected," I said as our eyes met again.
He leaned over and kissed me, awkward with the seatbelts but somehow tender anyway.
The house appeared through the darkness like something from a different tax bracket entirely.
It was sprawling and single-story, wrapped around a circular drive with the kind of understated elegance that cost serious money.
Tom was out of the car and opening my door before I could process the full scope of what I was looking at.
He punched in a door code on a very fancy looking keypad and led me inside, lights coming on automatically as we moved through rooms that felt both expensive and lived-in. I kept waiting for him to make his move, but he just held my hand and showed me around.
"Kitchen's here if you want anything," he said, already reaching for glasses. "Water?"
The gesture caught me off guard. Most hookups didn't involve guided tours and hydration breaks. "Sure."
In the bright kitchen light, I could see he was probably my age, maybe a year older. Definitely not some trust fund baby playing pretend adult, but I still couldn't figure out how someone our age afforded a Malibu horse ranch.
We drank our water and traded looks that made ordinary activities feel charged with possibility. Despite sobering up considerably and feeling suddenly shy about being in his house, I felt comfortable in a way that surprised me.
"Bedroom's this way," he said quietly, his voice shifting to something more intimate.
The room matched the rest of the house—clean without being sterile, expensive without being showy. Quality furniture, warm brown walls, forest green sheets that looked boutique and perfectly cool. An acoustic guitar leaned against the wall with the casual placement of an instrument actually used.
"Do you play?" I asked, nodding toward it.
"Yeah," he said simply.
We looked at each other for a long moment, the kind of eye contact that made everything else fade away.
"I like you, Aria," he said, and the straightforward honesty of it made my heart race.
"I like you too."
He stepped closer and kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands moving to frame my face. When he pulled back to set our water glasses aside, I could see something in his expression that made this feel different from every other late-night decision I'd made.
This wasn't just attraction or convenience or tequila-fueled bad judgment. This felt like something that might actually matter, which was either thrilling or terrifying.
"God, you're gorgeous," he said against my mouth, his voice rough with honesty. "You taste so good."
"You're so hot," I managed back, immediately feeling like an idiot. "You're killing me here."
Real eloquent, Aria. The man gives you poetry and you respond with the verbal equivalent of a caveman grunt.
His grin was wide enough to power half of Malibu as his hands found my ass, pulling me closer.
His confidence put me at ease, making me feel just as brave.
We got lost in each other then, taking turns kissing necks and discovering the spots that made the other person make those small, involuntary sounds.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard, lips swollen and grins stupidly wide.
I had no idea how much time had passed, could have been minutes or hours.
Time felt like a concept that belonged to other people.
"Hi," he said sweetly.
"Hi," I said, my voice floating.
Something stirred in my chest as we continued to stare in our embrace. This felt shockingly intimate. Not like the usual dirty hedonism that the LA club scene was so known for, but warm, slow, like maple syrup. Reminded me of home.
"Want to watch a movie?" he asked, completely catching me off guard.
I was quickly realizing that was such a Tom thing to do, zigging when everyone else zagged. Giving warmth instead of pressure.
"I'd love that," I said, smiling as he slowly stepped back but kept one hand on my lower back, maintaining the connection.
"Let me get you something comfortable," he said, grabbing a remote from his nightstand and pressing it into my hands.
"Pick whatever you want, cutie."
I scrolled through his streaming apps, more interested in snooping than actually choosing something. His Netflix revealed recent viewings of a rom-com and some 2010s teen drama, which made me snort with laughter.
"Were you watching Crazy, Stupid, Love recently?" I giggled.
"You know it," he said from his dresser, completely unashamed. "Can't get enough of Steve Carell."
God, I liked him.
"So if I wanted to watch The Office would you have already seen it?"
"Obviously, but it's been years. Let's do it."
I found the movie and paused it on the opening credits as Tom handed me a pair of soft gray sweatpants that would drape oversized on me and a boxy t-shirt that smelled faintly like his cologne. Our height difference meant I had to rise on my toes to plant a quick kiss on his lips.
"Thank you," I said, pulling back to find him smiling.
"You can change in the bathroom if you want, or—"
I pulled my dress off right there, letting it pool at my feet. His sentence died mid-air as I stood there in nothing but my barely-there black thong, meeting his gaze with a look that was pure challenge. I could feel the devilish little smirk on my lips, showing my tits proudly to his wanting gaze.
The moment stretched between us, charged and electric. I could have reached for the shirt. But we just stood there, breathing and staring, until finally...
"Fuck it," Thomas said as he quickly closed the distance between us, pulling my body flush against his much harder one.
The roughness of his jeans and pressing cock against my stomach felt amazing as our lips finally connected again.
He started devouring me, taking total control of the situation.
Something about him being fully clothed while I was near nude felt so dirty and good.
"You're beautiful, Aria," he pulled back long enough to say. The intensity and rawness of his voice had me pulling him back for another deep, all consuming kiss. His hand was directing my head, tangled in my hair while his other arm kept me flush against his chest.
Everything felt both so intense and like he was taking his time with me, like there was no rush, we had all night. I started pushing my hands up under his shirt, trying to feel his hot skin more directly on mine. We broke apart long enough for him to whip his shirt off.
But before I could pull him in for another kiss, he was slowly sinking to his knees right in front of me, his hands landing on my waist as the new position had him about chest height.
He pulled me flush against his newly bare chest as we stared at each other, I leaned down to kiss him again.
He moved his plumped lips from my down stretched face to my chest, working me over slowly as his hot breath connected with my heated skin.
He kissed down my chest so passionately, groaning into my flesh like I was the best thing he had tasted, making me squirm in need. One of his wonderfully skilled hands started working my right breast while the other stayed wrapped around me, keeping me flush to his needy touches.
It all felt too good. His hot mouth connected with my left nipple, sucking and working me over as my hips moved shamelessly trying to find some relief.
My light moans filled the space, I was clinging to his hair and shoulders like he was the only thing tying me to this earth, it felt like it in the moment.
He finally moved one of his hands down to take off my panties, stopping his beautifully brutal working over of my breasts to pause and give me a questioning look, waiting for my permission.