Page 57 of Crimson Desires

The girl he drew looked sad. She looked tired and worn out. She looked hurt. And yet, she was still smiling—ever so slightly.

It shocked me that he’d drawn me that way. Unglamorous and somber. I’d expected him to draw me happier. To make me look like the beautiful, mysterious girl that I was sure he saw when he looked at me.

I had tried to shield my brokenness from Jack. Yet somehow, it had never occurred to me that despite my best efforts, he might have already seen that brokenness. And furthermore, that he might find me beautiful despite it.

“You hate it,” Jack said, more as a statement than a question.

“No, I don’t,” I said. “Jack, I love it. It’s beautiful.”

Jack grinned. “Of course, it is. It’s you.”

***

After the art museum, Jack and I went to a nice restaurant.

And when I say nice, I mean nice. Like, four dollar signs on Google, nice.

Even though Jack had allowed me to return to the crew bus to change into the one dress I’d brought with me, I still felt wildly underdressed.

But my clothes weren’t the only thing that made me feel embarrassed. There was also the fact that Jack was groping my thighs beneath the table. I barely suppressed a moan as his hand slipped dangerously close to my crotch.

“You’re such an ass,” I hissed.

Jack threw a cavalier smile in my direction. “This isn’t news.”

The waiter came by with our meals—two French dishes that I could barely even pronounce correctly. He refilled our flutes of champagne.

“How do you even eat in these places?” I asked, careful to keep my voice low. The restaurant didn’t have any explicit rules about noise level but based on the fact that the place seemed quieter than a library, I figured it was just part of the etiquette. “I feel like I’m going to get kicked out if I breathe the wrong way.”

“Next time, we’ll get steak and fries,” Jack said.

“That would be much preferred, yes.” I quickly added, “Not that I’m not thankful for this. This is amazing. It’s just-,”

Jack placed his hand (the one that wasn’t feeling me up under my dress) over mine. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Aster. I get it. But this food is heaven. And if anyone says anything about you being here, they can answer to me. Okay?”

I bit my lip and nodded. “Okay.”

Jack and I dug into our meals. As Jack had promised, the unpronounceable French dish was, in fact, heavenly. I moaned in delight as I chewed the tender meat.

Jack gritted his teeth.

“What?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Jack locked eyes with me, his gaze dark and dominating. “If you keep making noises like that, we’re going to have to excuse ourselves to the restroom.”

I squeezed my thighs together, lust lighting a fire in my core. “Is that a threat?”

Jack’s lips curled into a smile. “No. It’s a promise.”

***

Somehow, Jack and I restrained ourselves throughout the course of our meal. I was tired at this point, but Jack insisted upon one more activity.

Dave drove us to Sandling Beach—a small, manufactured lake beach not far from the city.

“It would’ve been nice to go to an actual beach, but they’re all pretty far away,” Jack said.

Jack carried my sneakers and his boots as we walked along the sandy lakeshore. Even though it was summer, there weren’t many people around, which offered us a decent modicum of privacy. Every so often, I’d notice somebody point at Jack or try to sneak a picture with their phone, but Dave was vigilant about ensuring that nobody approached us.

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