After planting my hands on the black stone countertops, I stared into the frameless mirror, the explosion of plants behind me a perfect background to my humiliation.
For all my plans to teetotal this evening, the second I’d walked into this place, I was fucked. Kess was dressed like a Ralph Lauren ad, a sleek playboy surrounded by the drunk and debauched. When someone put a drink in my hand, I took it like a life preserver, downing it as quickly as I could.
I’d taken it to loosen the sudden tightness in my chest, but all it’d done was make me crave Kessler’s lips on mine. Instead, I let him give me a full tour like I hadn’t witnessed the progress every day, or as if he hadn’t already walked all of us through his place before the furniture went in.
Every moment I wasn’t in his arms was torture, and when we stepped into his room, I was a mess of need and abject terror. His hunger had been visible from a mile away, but it was his kiss that did me in.
His kiss was everything I’d ever imagined it could be. More, because Kessler kissed like a god. Like a sorcerer. Never in my entire life had I ever been so perfectly manhandled. He’d shocked me when he grabbed my ass, but it was his words that scared the shit out of me.
“God, please let me worship this tight fucking hole.”
Worse than sleeping with Kess would be sleeping with him and having it not mean a thing.Thatwould just about kill me.
There was no way I’d ever tell him that, so I freaked right the fuck out and added to the pile of lies I’d been shoveling since the day we’d met. Part of me wanted to throw up, and another part of me wanted to flee the premises, but that would only create even more questions, none of which I had any intention of answering.
After splashing some water on my face and regulating my breathing, I plastered on a saucy grin, opened the door, andsauntered into the party. Kess caught my eye from across the way.
You okay?he mouthed, concerned.
I sent him a wink.I’m good.
Early on I’d discovered that it was easier to let people believe I was a slut than to let them in on the real me. Everyone loved a himbo, right? Until this very moment, I’d believed that wholeheartedly. Having Kess treat me like a throwaway fuck was making me question my entire philosophy.
Shaking off my nerves, I made my way to the kitchen and got a fresh sangria, ignoring the funny—but not—jokes about my legendary blow job skills. Once I’d imbibed enough social lubricant, I joined the dancing scrum in the living room and helped Kessler celebrate his gorgeous new house.
Despite having seen it in all of its stages, I had to admit that the fully decorated interior gave me a bit more insight into the man. Even with our filthy texts, Kess always seemed more reserved compared to Emery’s warmth. As I sipped on the powerful sangria, this place made me wonder.
For instance, what would Kess do if I told him I loved him?
He’d probably laugh his ass off.
No, he wouldn’t. As bleary as I was, I still knew that Kess was far too kind for that. He’d let me down easy and remind me of our many, many incompatibilities, not to mention the delicate ecosystem of these adjoining properties and adjoining lives. He’d then suggest that it was time we stopped our textual inappropriateness, and that’d be that.
Just imagining it was horrifying enough to keep my mouth in check. I returned to the kitchen for a top off because the only thing getting me through the night was this sangria.
Tomorrow I’d find other, healthier ways to wrangle myself.
Tonight? Fuck it. This was a party, so let’s fucking party.
By the end of the evening, we were all pretty sloppy. Some were staying in Kessler’s guest rooms, and another contingent made their way down to Emery and Woody’s house to sleep off the excesses. Here was hoping they brought ear plugs. I went around the living room and kitchen, shoving party trash into enormous lawn bags so that Kess wouldn’t have a mess to clean up in the morning.
“Hey, Rowd,” he slurred, walking into the living room as I gathered my things to go.
“Hey, Kess. Great party.”
Shh. Don’t tell anyone, but I love you.
“I’m glad you liked it. I wanted to apologize again for before...”
He didn’t seem equipped to end the sentence, so I waved him off. “Like I said, no worries. We’re good.”
Liar, liar.
“You sure?” he asked, rare uncertainty in his pale green eyes, which had always been honest. Too honest, sometimes.
“Of course.” I leaned up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “Besides, who doesn’t make out with their friends?”
Well, I didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. He was kind enough not to bring up my overreaction. His kindness—or perhaps that was the sangria—had come dangerously close to loosening my tongue. But no. I would keep my mouth shut.
