Page 21 of Let Me Say It Again

“So?”

“So that’s on a need-to-know basis, meaning you don’t need to know, and I’m not going to share. That’s my business and my business only.”

“Have you slept with anyone since we got engaged?”

“Again, it’s fake.”

“It’s fake in this apartment. It’s fake when we’re alone together, but once either of us step outside, it’s as real as anyone else’s engagement.”

“Good thing I don’t believe in marriage and think engagements are merely a way for people to delay the inevitable—a life sentence miserably married or a divorce.”

Shit was she a ray of sunshine. “I won’t have you walking out of someone else’s place in broad daylight the next morning.”

“Fine. I’ll bring them here.”

“You’re not understanding. So long as this arrangement lasts, you’re mine for all intents and purposes, which means I can’t take a risk someone will be on to us.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying as long as we’re together, you can’t be caught fucking anyone who isn’t me.”

* * *

Jade

That better have been Red’s lame attempt at a joke because if it wasn’t, I’d fear for my life if I were him. Not really, but you know, it was an expression. I wouldn’t mind kicking him in the balls, though.

I finished fixing my boobs in the sapphire-blue dress Bianca had insisted I wear. Honestly, this was a sham. It was all bullshit, so why couldn’t I dress like myself? Why did I have to play the role in this way? I would’ve much rather worn jeans and a nice shirt or even a skirt and top with some big, puffy sleeves or whatever it was that was in these days. Oh, help me, I was going to suck at being a fashion editor.Regina, I’m sorry in advance for screwing up your magazine and driving readership numbers into the ground.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I finally responded to Red’s idiotic statement about me abstaining until after we happily broke up. If you could even call it that, since we weren’t actually together. Ahh, there was such a thin line between fiction and non-fiction, wasn’t there? “If you’re dehydrated, you can help yourself to something from my fridge.” That would be the only logical explanation for his insanity, that he was dehydrated and hallucinating as a result.

He didn’t respond, and for a second, I worried he’d dropped dead or something. I’d go check on him, but I was already bent over, slipping black pumps on. I swore heels were designed to torture a woman’s feet.

“I’m choosing to ignore your psychobabble.” Red’s voice was growing close, so I peered up and came face-to-face with him.

My lips narrowed into a thin line. “Hey, this is my bedroom. I could’ve been naked. I let you into my home and gave you a nice shot of my ass, but I’m not putting on a show for you, okay? And tickets aren’t for sale anyway, so you’re out of luck.”

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and looking handsome as he did. Geez, I hated how attractive I foundthis man. He was wearing a white shirt with a vest, burgundy necktie, and black slacks. I assumed he left his jacket in the car. Meanwhile, it didn’t matter, the point was I wanted to jump his bones. I wanted to strip him down, tell him to hell with his mother’s stupid, over-the-top (I was sure it would be) party, and ride him like I was a trained equestrian. I wasn’t, and while I couldn’t ride a horse to save my life, I’d become quite skilled at riding cocks. The best part was it was actually like riding a bike—it didn’t matter how long it’d been since your last go around, the skill came back to you as soon as you got back on.

I licked my lips and realized I’d completely stopped what I was doing, my hand frozen on the back of my heel. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Just waiting to move until you’re done eye fucking me.” A cocky smirk filled his expression, and I wanted to kiss that look right off his face. Yes, apparently, I had a thing for smug sons of bitches. Hence my relationship with Nate. Only, Nate was a selfish, arrogant son of a bitch, so there was that tiny difference.

I rolled my eyes, so he got the message loud and clear—that he was wrong, obviously. He wasn’t, but that’d be our little secret. I finished getting ready and cleared my throat. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

I got up and ran my hands down my dress, fixing the high-slit on the side. Yeah, this was definitely not me. But I didn’t hate it. It actually made me feel. . . sexy. Like more than usual. “I’m ready,” I said, bringing my eyes back to him and taking a step forward so we could get going.

Only, I was stopped in my tracks by his gaze. Talk about drinking someone in. His eyes were all over me, lingering before they came in contact with a new part of my body. It was as though he was studying my every curve in a way no one else ever had. “It’s the dress,” I said, trying to break the silence andhoping it would stop his gaze as they traveled up my body, landing squarely on my eyes.

He left his spot on the doorframe and took a step inside. “It’s not.” He shook his head, his jaw twitching like there was more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. Then he added, “It’s you. You’re beautiful.”

My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I couldn’t believe I was blushing at a silly compliment like that. “If you think that’s going to get you laid tonight, it’s not.” I didn’t think I could take him looking at me like that for one more second. Like time stopped when he looked at me and it was all he could do to turn away and stop tracing every part of my body with his eyes. That was too intense for me.

His eyes studied mine for a moment, as though he was trying to figure me out—it would never happen, by the way—before glancing down at his watch. “Remind me to give you the wrong time next time, so we’re not late.”

I shrugged. “Probably won’t help.”

He turned and walked out, and I followed him. “You’re one of those people who will be late to their own funeral, aren’t you?”

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