Episode 230
SNAKEBITE
Sebastian
We’ve drifted to the other side of the pool.
I’m still holding onto her, my eyes closed, my cock sated.
Until—
Two hands slam against my chest.
Hard.
I lurch backward, catch a flash of her eyes—fury, fire, maybe even satisfaction—before I hit the water with a loud splash. It closes over my head, sharp and cold, and for a second everything goes muffled and blue.
I come up coughing, blinking water out of my eyes, trying to get my bearings.
She’s standing at the edge, arms crossed, not even pretending to look sorry.
I wipe a hand over my face, chest heaving with disbelief.
“What the hell was that?” I sputter.
She shrugs. “I don’t know…Brett.”
I widen my eyes. “Brett? What the fuck?”
“Heather,” she says. “What the fuck, Heather. That’s my name.”
“I know your damned name. Jesus.”
“News to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I push my wet hair out of my eyes.
“I asked if you were ready for round two.”
I grin lazily. “Always.”
“Yeah. That’s what you said. ‘Sounds great.’”
“Then what was the dunking for?”
“You called me Emily, you shit-for-brains.”
Fuck.
Did I really?
I like Heather. She and I get each other.
At least I thought we did.
Why would I call her another name?
“So you fancy the Brit, huh?” Heather splashes me, and not nicely. Then she pulls herself out of the pool, water dripping from her luscious body. She stalks away, her wet footprints evaporating quickly on the warm pool deck as she heads toward the locker room.
I watch her go, torn between the urge to apologize and the sting of wounded pride. The early evening breeze ruffles the surface of the water.
With a sigh, I haul myself out of the pool, feeling like an absolute tool. I hadn’t meant to call her another name. I like her. A lot.
And Emily…
I was so drawn to her at first, and I thought I still was. But am I? Or is it just more wounded pride that she wouldn’t sleep with me again because she’s in love with Riv?
I have much more in common with Heather—our LA lifestyle, the parties, the late nights, the need to look flawless even when we feel like shit inside. She gets the pressure. The vanity. The vulnerability under it.
“Wait,” I call after her.
She doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t even look over her shoulder. She opens the door to the women’s locker room, clearly royally pissed off.
But why? Sure, maybe I said the wrong name, but it’s not like she hasn’t fooled around with others here. She and June have had their own little pussy party.
Still, I feel like a heel because I upset her. And because I truly do like her.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and get out of the pool. I make my way toward the women’s locker room. “Heather!” I call out again.
No response.
I knock on the door. “Come on. Come out. Please. Let me explain.”
But explain what? I don’t even remember saying Emily’s name. I knew I was with Heather. What the hell is wrong with me?
A moment later, Heather emerges, a robe wrapped around her, and her hair neatly combed back. She pushes me out of the way.
“Come on, baby,” I say.
She turns, her hair whipping around and spraying me with water droplets. “Baby? Seriously?”
“We’ve had some good times,” I say. “Some really good times. You and June have had good times. And I’m pretty sure I glimpsed you working out with River the other day.”
She rolls her eyes. “Get over yourself. This isn’t about who you’ve fucked, Sebastian. It’s about knowing who you’re fucking. It’s not like I mistook June for you when she was eating me out.”
“Heather…”
“Fuck off.” The robe slides over her shoulder, and her viper tattoo peeks out.
She’s so sexy. So beautiful.
All the women are, but it’s like comparing apples to oranges. Heather is Heather. She’s not Emily, and I’d never want her to be.
I catch up to her before she leaves the pool area and grab her from behind. I kiss the soft skin of her shoulder, sliding my tongue over the viper’s head.
“You’re a goddess,” I whisper, “a goddess with a viper on your shoulder and secrets in your smile. And it’s killing me that I hurt you.”
She turns, wrangling out of my grasp, and meets my gaze. “Hurt? Are you on drugs? I’m not hurt, Sebastian. I’m pissed. Angry. What woman wouldn’t be?”
I turn her around again and rip the robe off her. It falls on the ground in a blue satin puddle. I lick the viper once more.
“Be angry, then,” I whisper against her flesh. “Let out the rage, Heather. Be that viper ready to strike.”
She huffs and turns around again, facing me. “You don’t have any idea who I am.”
“I’d like to,” I say honestly.
She studies me, dark-blue eyes sharp but glassy. She presses her lips into a thin line.
I know the look.
She’s trying not to feel this…whatever this is between us.
“You like what I let you see,” she says. “The cool girl. The fantasy with good hair and sharp comebacks. The woman who challenges you in bed. But you don’t know me.”
“I’d like to.”
“I don’t let anyone get that close,” she says.
I step closer. “Try me.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “No. You think you want the truth, but people always say that right before they flinch. Right before they leave.”
“I’m not people.”
“No,” she agrees quietly. “You’re dangerous.”
I blink. “Me?”
She nods. “Because I could almost believe you. In fact…”
“In fact what?” I reach out, fingers grazing her wrist, not to hold her. Just to touch. Just to feel something real.
She pushes my hand away. “In fact, if you hadn’t said someone else’s name, I might have believed you.” She sighs. “You did me a favor. I should be thanking you.”
“Heather,” I say. “Let me earn your trust. Show me what hides under that viper’s smile.”
She stares at me for what seems like an eternity.
Then—barely audible— “Some secrets don’t get told. They just…stay. Sink in. Change you.”
I nod slowly. “So let it be on your terms.”
She tilts her head. “Even if it destroys the fantasy?”
I grin. “Heather, I’m a rock star. I don’t live for fantasies. I live for what burns.”
She narrows her gaze. “What burns? You have no idea what kind of fire you’re igniting.”
Then she turns and walks out the door and toward the mansion.