Page 30 of Filthy Twisted Devil

I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous. One look at her smiling hazel eyes, and annoyed guests forget what bartender got their drink wrong. God, has she always been this obviously attractive? How did I not notice before?

Maybe because before, I’d never kissed her.

Fuck, that kiss. It's pathetic, the way I've been constantly replaying it in my dreams. The way her body fit against mine, the sweet, submissive way her lips parted for me like she’d been waiting for me.

It was a good kiss. A great one, even. That doesn’t explain how many times I jacked off thinking about it. It’s probably because that’s the most action I’ve gotten in months, I tell myself. The kiss broke the dry spell, that’s it, and I could prove it.

All I’d have to do is kiss her again.

It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. After all, we’ll probably have to kiss again at some point, anyway, if our fake relationship keeps going. A little practice would make it look more natural, right?

Across the room, a server knocks over a stack of yellow napkins. Eden quickly helps pick them up, bending over. Even in her shapeless slacks, the view is un-fucking-believable. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to dig my fingers into that ass.

If it were anyone other than Eden, of course, I’d do just that. There’s no reason a fake relationship couldn’t come with real physical benefits, as long as the chemistry’s there. We might as well scratch that itch, right?

But it is Eden. My sister’s best friend. A fucking virgin. Someone who deserves more than me to make her first time special, someone without my…preferences.

That Peppermint article wasn’t completely wrong. My sexual tastes run darker than most of my friends’. I’m not exactly a card-carrying member of the local sex dungeon, but I know my way around a length of rope. I expect to be the Dominant in any sexual scenario. I can do vanilla if I have to, but frankly, I’d rather order almost any other flavor.

That’s too much to put on someone who hasn’t tried any flavor at all.

Having finished cleaning up the napkins, Eden moves to the back of the room, behind a table stacked with macarons and cupcakes. As she surveys the crowd, clearly looking for any place where she might be needed, she absently undoes her ponytail. She shakes her dark blonde hair loose, making it fall in long locks around her shoulders. It looks sinfully soft. As she combs her fingers through it, smoothing it out before she puts it back up again, a vision flashes into my mind.

That hair, wrapped around my fist.

Eden on her hands and knees in front of me, her back arched, presenting her shapely ass to me while I yank on her hair.

Fuck, I’m at a baby shower, surrounded by stuffed bears and cupcakes decorated with iced pacifiers. This is the last place I should be getting turned on, fake girlfriend or not.

I force myself to look away from her. My eyes sweep over the room, landing on a pair of caramel-colored eyes. Maura’s staring at me, and she smiles slightly when I stare back. She raises her glass of sparkling cider to me, like she’s trying to send me a message. I have no clue what it is, so I just raise my glass back at her. Her smile grows broader, and I’m struck by the feeling that she knows something about me. Something that I maybe don’t even understand myself.

It’s unsettling.

I throw back the rest of my drink and turn to Ryan. “Should we head to the bar for some more whiskey?”

He grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

12

EDEN

My blood thrums as I move through the party crowd, saying hello to everyone I recognize while I look over their shoulders for anything going wrong. Empty trays, missing servers, abandoned drink glasses, and even awkward conversations between guests—they’re all things I can fix.

Mostly, though, I’m ready to soak up the energy of the crowd. That’s the best part of working an event, seeing people actually enjoy the party I spent ages putting together. Their enjoyment is contagious.

Of course, the baby shower going well isn't the only thing that has my spirits up. The fee Flair Events is paying me for this event should cover my costs for November and most of December. Which is great timing, considering that the lease transfer between me and Brinley went through two weeks ago. I'm officially paying rent by myself, and I don’t have a financial back-up plan anymore.

I deleted the PrairieSmoke account after my first paycheck. Even though I lost my followers, it felt good to get rid of it. Camwork went from a financial life preserver to a millstone hung around my neck. Already, I feel freer knowing that the only person who's going to see me naked in the near future is me.

Best of all, I didn't have to take a dollar for anyone. Not from Luke, not from my brothers. And I've taken great pleasure in rubbing it in all the Locke boys’ faces. Since I started working for Flair, my brothers have received incessant texts from me, updating them on balloons and custom banners and guestlists. It's not exactly impressive to a bunch of ranchers, but I don't care. Luke might have introduced me to Flair, but I'm the one who turned the introduction into a lucrative new job. That means I did this all by myself.

“Hey, Eden?” One of the bartenders walks over to me. “We’re down to our last two bottles of sparkling cider.”

“I guess people aren't drinking in solidarity. I know we've got some in the prep kitchen. I'll make sure the bar is stocked.”

“Thanks,” she says. “You're a lifesaver.”

I wave to Pippa, Cat, and Brinley as I move through the crowd. Pippa and Cat wave back and Brinley sticks her tongue out at me. The only downside of having my own apartment is how quiet it is. I miss Brinley. Even though she spent more time at Beau’s than at home for the past few months, I still saw her at the bookstore. Now, I’m spending far more time alone than I’m used to, and I’m not sure I like it. I give myself a mental reminder to invite Brinley over for a girl’s night next week.