Chapter 1
Nairie
The plush leather couch enveloped us as we embraced. It was smooth as butter and the color of cognac. A faint squelching sound escaped the cushions as Luke ran his hands up and down my waist. I stared up at his piercing blue eyes and tried to pretend I wasn’t a twenty-three-year-old virgin. Luke brushed my long, dark hair aside and nibbled on my neck.
I looked around his apartment as I tried to calm my nerves. His meticulously curated decor and self-portraits surrounded me like I was in a museum.
I rolled my eyes at the Voted Best Looking Influencer of the Year award. Why was I here again?
The first time I saw Luke, he walked in as the nude model for my art class, and my jaw dropped like a cartoon wolf.
His expensive cologne was attractive at first. A blend of champagne and sandalwood filled the studio like an Abercrombie store. It was suffocating now that we were horizontal and three inches apart.
So I tried breathing “sexily” through my mouth—parted lips, shaken whimpers, and just the right amount of teeth to avoid looking like a disgruntled badger. I trailed my fingers across his muscular arms, enjoying the feel of his smooth, tan skin until I reached his tattooed neck and read the script—Guts, Glory, and Ganja.
Luke inched his hands over my breasts and lightly squeezed.
The feeling of another person touching me like this was jarring, but I took it in stride. I could handle my boobs getting squeezed.
Wait, what is he... Is he kneading them?
Luke stretched his arms forward and kneaded his hands up and down my boobs like a kitty cat.
He bit his lip and looked into my eyes. “Yeah, you like that?”
He seemed so positive this was pleasing me that I half believed it was.
I cleared my throat. “Uh . . . yeah. It’s . . . it’s great.”
Luke chuckled softly and inched his face closer to mine.
In preparation for tonight, I’d studied every make-out tutorial on the internet like it was one of my business exams from school. I made cue cards and practiced on my teddy bear, Fatoosh (fah-toosh)—a gift from my grandmother and now a tool for sexual exploitation.
But before I could make all the necessary adjustments, Luke moved toward my ear, letting his tongue take a quick dip.
I wiped my ear on my shoulder in disgust. “Um, maybe we can just kiss like normal?”
Luke looked confused but smiled. “You’re kind of old-fashioned, huh?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
“That’s cute,” he chuckled.
Maybe this was a mistake. I never thought Luke would be a terrible kisser.
Sure, he had lame tattoos with absolutely no meaning, like paw prints of a raccoon he claimed was hisspirit animal during a Coachella acid trip.
And he had more highlights in his hair than I did.
We also had nothing in common.
Okay, I should go.I was about to excuse myself, but Luke pulled off his shirt.
Ah, I remember now.
The man was an Instagram model sculpted by the gods.
Luke ran his hand through his coiffed hair and winked. “Let me put on some music before we get into it.”
