Page 53 of Claiming Atlas

Fuck me, I sound like a douchebag. Chris is right; lyrics and poetry are his thing, not mine.

But this dress is something else. It’s white like the rest of the room, draping from each shoulder, then connecting at the waist, leaving a deep V of pale skin that draws my eyes to her navel.

“How are you, Atlas?” She pats my lapel, then clasps her hands lightly at her waist. “I see you received my invitation.”

“How did you know where I was staying?”

She smirks. “I have my ways.”

“Well, if you wanted to ask me out—”

She raises one slender hand. “Oh no, honey, you’ve misunderstood.” She tilts her head, holding my gaze. “That little tryst of ours was fun.” She looks around the room focusing on nothing and everything all at once, then brings her gaze back to mine. “But I have something else planned for you entirely.” She leans forward, bringing her lips to my ear, and I can’t help but look down at the unobstructed view of her breasts as each side of the loose fabric drapes open. “Someoneelse.”

Oh?I lean back a bit and she straightens. With a satisfied grin, she pats my chest. “This girl means a lot to me. Don’t let me down, Atlas.” With that, she turns slowly and strolls away from me, and something tells me that’s the last conversation we’ll ever have.

I still don’t even know her name.

I watch after her for a few long seconds, then slowly make my way around the room. I have a feeling she brought me here to schmooze, and with the amount of playmates I’ve already spotted—seven, if you count next month’s centerfold—I’m just the guy for the job.

Which one of these girls is for me? She said someoneelse entirely, so...Eenie meenie miney moe...

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kayla

The cocktail reception portion of this event is set to last twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of standing behind these sheer curtains and holding as still as a statue.

Collette could get me to do just about anything she wants. I swear.

I’m not wearing a watch—it wouldn’t go with this landing strip of lace covering my crotch, or the matching bustier—but I feel like I’ve already been behind this curtain for way longer than twenty minutes.

And I don’t think Atlas is coming.

Sure, I high-tailed it out of there, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want more. Disappointment shouldn’t grip my heart the way it does, but after this morning and the night we spent together last night, well...

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