Chapter 20 #3
We order another round of margaritas, then spend the next half hour dissecting the addendum line by line, Taylor highlighting sections she thinks deserve follow-up. She asks how I feel about different kinks, and I answer with complete honesty and zero shame.
Some of them are easy.
Some pique my curiosity.
Some make me blush harder than I’d like to admit.
“So,” she says eventually, saving the document before looking back up at me. “You really think you can commit to letting him be in control every time?”
I swirl my drink thoughtfully. “Sure, why not?”
“You hate being bossed around.”
“Depends on the context.” I drain the last sip from my glass. “When it comes to sex, it’s kinda nice not having to think. Last night I got to shut off my brain and just feel.”
“And you liked it?”
“Girl.” I give her a look that’s answer enough. “It was hot as fuck. You ever come so hard you passed out?”
Judging by the color rapidly creeping into her cheeks, I’m not the only one who knows how intense vampire-induced orgasms can be.
Taylor starts to hand my phone back, but pauses halfway. “You’re actually gonna follow up on this, right?”
“Sure,” I say, holding out my hand and wiggling my fingers.
She stares me down. “Bex.”
“Taylor.”
I stubbornly hold her gaze for another few seconds before relenting with a dramatic sigh.
“I hate healthy communication,” I mutter.
“I know.” She slaps my phone into my waiting palm. “But as your best friend, it’s my job to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Somebody has to be the responsible one.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I roll my eyes, stuffing my phone into my pocket. “I’ll do it.”
“You promise?”
“… Yes.”
She narrows her eyes. “Bex.”
I sigh. “I promise.”
Only then does she look satisfied, sitting back and folding her arms.
A guy about our age suddenly appears beside the table with two fresh margaritas in hand.
“Ladies,” he greets, setting them down with an easy smile. “Figured you could use a refill.”
Taylor flashes the diamond on her left hand before he can get another word out.
His face falls in momentary disappointment, then he quickly swerves his attention to me, clocking my bare left hand.
“How about you?” he asks, wagging his brows.
Taylor cuts in before I can answer. “She’s taken, too.”
My head snaps in her direction, mouth dropping open in indignation. “No I’m not.”
Taylor levels me with a look. I scowl back for a long moment before cracking a smile.
Turning back to the guy, I shrug. “Sorry. You’re cute and all, but not tonight.”
He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Worth a shot.”
Rather than lingering in rejection, he takes it like a champ, wishes us a good night, and heads back toward the bar. Taylor watches him go, then turns back to me.
“You sure about that exclusivity clause?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, reaching for the fresh margarita.
Turning the guy down is one thing, but turning down free drinks? Never.
Half an hour later, we’re stumbling out of the bar arm in arm, the sky dark and the street washed in the amber glow of traffic lights and storefront signs.
The summer air is still warm, carrying the scent of burger grease and exhaust. I laugh as Taylor’s heel catches the edge of a cracked sidewalk, steadying her before she can topple into me.
Then the little hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
It hits so suddenly that the laughter dies in my throat, that unmistakable feeling of being watched washing over me. I glance up, searching for the source of my sudden discomfort.
Across the street, a tall figure stands motionless in the narrow strip of darkness between two buildings. I suck in a breath and yank Taylor closer, my fingernails digging into her forearm.
“What?” she asks, startled.
“Do you see that?”
She follows my gaze across the street, squinting. “See what?”
“The…” I blink. The figure is gone. Only darkness remains. “Uh… never mind.”
Taylor tilts her head, studying me. “You okay?”
I force out a laugh. “I think I might be losing my damn mind.”
“You’ve always been a little crazy,” she says, patting my arm.
The headlights of a black sedan parked at a curb flick to life, and I point toward it. “This you?”
She nods.
I pull her into a quick hug before walking her over and opening the rear door.
“Text me after you talk to Elliott,” she says as she slides into the seat.
“I will.”
She fixes me with a stern look. “And actually have the conversation.”
“Yes, Mom,” I sigh, rolling my eyes before shutting the door.
The car pulls away, and I wait until it’s out of sight before walking another half block to the black SUV parked beneath a streetlight. The locks disengage as I approach, and the second I climb into the back seat and shut the door behind me, I hit the lock button again.
The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, Miss Hamilton?”
I look back toward the gap between the buildings one last time, but there’s still nothing.
“Yeah,” I say, fingers toying with my bracelet as I settle into the seat. “Just had one too many margs.”
The driver nods. “Home?”
“Yes please.”
The SUV eases away from the curb, carrying me back toward the penthouse, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that someone was watching me again.
Or the lingering fear of what’ll happen when he decides to stop watching and actually do something.