Page 37 of A Smooth Operator

He looked around uncomfortably and then at me. "Echo, I don't want you blabbing about this to anyone."

Blabbing?

"Hmm." I drank tea to stop myself from screaming or crying or throwing the hot liquid at him.

"Lani and my mother won't appreciate it. My father will also be upset. And Marina and I just broke up. This will hurt her. I don't need the drama."

I gathered all of my resources and kept my face free of emotion. It cost me, but showing him my heartbreak would, I knew, cost me a whole lot more. "It's a one-night stand, Remi. Don't worry about it."

There, that sounded like I was cool and sophisticated, didn't it?

"Well, I'm going to wait outside for my ride."

"Goodnight, Remi."

He walked to my front door and then turned suddenly, I was right behind him and took a step back to stop him from bumping into me.

"You're okay with what we did?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." A little brokenhearted, but that's my fault, not yours.

"I don't want any drunken text messages and phone calls and that shit."

Wow! He was really not going to treat me with any respect, was he?

"I'm not like your other floozies, Remi. I actually have a working brain."

"This ain't about your brains, Poo…. Just keep this to yourself. I'll see you when I see you. Yeah?"

"Sure."

He walked away, and I closed my front door and locked it. I leaned against it, my head warm against the cool wood. After mind-numbing sex, he was still going to call me Poopy Pants. In his head, I was still the DUFF, wasn't I? And no one fucked the designated ugly fat friend; or even if they did, they didn't advertise it.

I marched into my bedroom and stripped the sheets off my bed, feeling dirty and used. He'd taken something that could've been a nice memory and mucked it up with his thoughtlessness.

I put the towels he used and the sheets in the washer and put fresh sheets on my bed.

That night, as I struggled to find sleep, I promised myself that I'd never put myself in this situation again. I'd never ever sleep with Remi Drake, even if he was on his knees.

The hell with him.

Chapter 14

Remi

Igripped Echo's thighs, jerking them apart. I slid two fingers in at once, pushing inside the slick warmth of her pussy.

Her smell was everywhere. I couldn't escape it; didn't want to. Even when I was at home, I could smell her, which was why I came back to her again and again.

Since that night in May, I'd given up resisting Echo. I tried. God knew I did. I had emotionless and commitment-free pussy available at the club, but my dick refused to cooperate. It only wanted Echo. Her breathless moans. Her gasps. The way she cried out when she came. Fuck! I couldn't get enough of her.

I ended up at her place late on Sunday after the club closed and then again on Monday night. These were my sacred nights. I stayed home alone and went through paperwork for the club and restaurants, chilled and got my peace on so I could do another week of people and more people.

But I was spending these nights with Echo, well, only part of the nights. I didn't stay over. I didn't have breakfast with her. She never suggested it. The rules were clear. I didn't call her or text her. I showed up. She was always there. I loved that about her. She didn't text or call me either.

We fucked, and then I was gone. But I had been breaking the rules these past few weeks ever since the fourth of July when I took her in my childhood bedroom at home during my mother's annual Independence Day Barbecue. It had been a huge risk. We could've been caught. But she was in a gorgeous white sundress, and my dick was harder than it had ever been. I hadn't been able to help myself.

I didn't stay for breakfast at her place but came for dinner. She cooked. She was a damn good cook and baker. We hung out—watched a movie or a TV show and talked about books we read to the point that we were reading the same book at the same time so we could discuss it. She read fiction for me, and I read non-fiction for her.

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