Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Faina

I admit, the last thing I should be is vulnerable. But I’m fresh and raw and fucking hurt. It may seem pathetic, but him calling me shitty in bed zings worse than him cheating and I can’t even explain why that is. Maybe because I suspect he wouldn’t have cheated, if I was halfway decent in bed, and that pisses me off even more.

Because he should never have cheated, and I shouldn’t feel bad about myself because he did, and I shouldn’t allow him to control or manipulate my sense of self-worth.

But I am.

Or maybe it’s more that I’m questioning the woman I’ve allowed myself to become. I felt no heat when I was with Brooks. I never had the urge to rip his clothes off and never had a moment where I struggled to keep my hands to myself. I liked him because he was smart and dependable, and we were good together.

A perfect social match.

That’s it.

But Brooks texting me that Dex Chapman will grow bored of me in minutes and I’ll come begging for Brooks to take me back hits me in all the worst places. I can’t go back. And I don’t want to be considered boring—in bed or otherwise. I don’t want to be dull and allow the hottest, best moments of my life to pass me by because I’m too afraid to make the leap.

That’s how I’ve been my entire life. Ava was the adventurous one, afraid of nothing, and I was the opposite, the quiet good girl, too cautious, practical, and afraid to make any waves.

Not anymore.

This is my wake-up call. And Dex is the perfect man for the job.

He’s a rock star, and I’m a normal girl as he put it. He lives in London, and I live in Boston. He too is just getting out of a bad relationship, so he definitely won’t be looking for another. And from what I saw of that video, the man knows what he’s doing in the bedroom. Plus, my body has reacted more to Dex in the last three hours than it ever did to Brooks in the months we were dating.

I need to feel this. I need to explore it. I need to believe I am not the problem; I’ve just been with the wrong men.

Dex gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t quite know how to answer. Finally, after he sucks down a hearty sip of coffee, he decides to give it to me straight. “Yes.” Simple. Finite.

But there is a burning ember in the back of his green eyes that tells me he means it.

We have no chance at a future. No possibilities beyond this. It’s sex and nothing else.

He knows it.

I know it.

I’m positive there’s a part of my mind trying desperately to remind me why this is a bad idea, but I’m tired of listening to that part of me. Dex is the kind of reckless disaster that should have me running, but for the first time in my life, I don’t want to run away. I want to run toward the chaos.

I want something incredible to remember when this is all over.

And I know he can give me that if I let him.

“Good. That’s what I want,” I tell him after our breakfast is set before us and the waitress leaves us again.

“What happened to all your, I won’t kiss you and I won’t touch you and I certainly won’t share a bed with you?”

I shrug. “I changed my mind.”

His eyes grow hard. “What did he say to you?”

I glance down. “That you’ll grow bored of me, and I’ll come crawling back to him.”

“He’s a prat, love. A slimy little weasel who wants to have his cake and eat it too. Men like him get off on bringing others—especially women—down to make themselves feel powerful and more important. He’s not the reason you should fall into bed with someone.”

I grit my teeth. “He’s not,” I snap. “I’m doing this for myself. I’m twenty-seven. I have a degree in public relations and a master’s in business and marketing. I graduated top of my class from Ivy League schools, and I did so with full scholarships. I’ve worked for two top firms in Boston, both of which I was recruited to. I’m smart, but… I’m boring.” The admission hurts, but it needs to come out if I’m going to do this. “I eat well, exercise daily, wear sensible heels, and I never ever spend too much money on anything. I date successful, well-positioned men and keep up on current events. I’m a snooze-fest.” I shove my plate toward him. “Look, even my breakfast is boring.”

He rubs a finger along his bottom lip. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah, it is.”

“See?” I throw my hands up in the air. “I need this. I’m too young to live this life. I’m not saying I want to go out and get a tattoo or a piercing or blow all my savings on a purse. I’m just saying I need to live a little before it’s too late, and I think having some hot sex is a good way to start.”

He falls back against the cushion of the booth and glares skeptically. “Do you know what you’re asking for with me?”

I match his position. “You mean do I understand that I’m asking you to have no-string sex ed with me?”

He smirks. “Yes.”

“One hundred percent. It’s the perfect situation. We’re not going to fall in love. This is one week of total madness that happened to throw us together. And I don’t want to be her. The woman who gets cheated on and is told in front of too many people that the reason she was cheated on is because she’s shitty in bed.” I stare down at the Formica table. “I didn’t feel much when I had sex with him. Not a lot of lust or excitement. He never made me crazy.” I look up at Dex. “I want a man to make me feel crazy. I want to be so overcome with desire that I can’t keep my hands to myself. I want to see sparks fucking fly.”

Neither of us has touched our food. We’re too busy locked in this standoff.

“You want a man to make you crazy? To make sparks fly?”

“It’s more than that. I want to experience sex and know that I unequivocally own it along with the man who is brave enough to crawl into bed with me. I want to be wild and adventurous and unafraid. I want to be able to look back on my life one day and say, “I did that.” I was that woman.”

He emits a shaky chuckle, his face casting sideways out toward the restaurant and the people not paying us a whole lot of attention. While he’s mulling my proposition over, I pick up my fork and reach across, jabbing his sausage and then bringing it to my lips to take a bite. He catches it, his lips quirking up into an amused grin. He snatches the fork from my hand and shoves the rest into his mouth, chewing and swallowing all the while staring at me.

“Princess, I can make sparks fly. I can make them dance behind your eyes. I can take you out for a ride and twist you up until you’re mine.”

A smile lightens my face. “Those sound like song lyrics.”

He smiles right back at me. “Maybe they’ll turn out to be. You’re sure? You’re absolutely positive you want to start messing around? With me?”

“If you’re in, I’m in.”

His eyebrows bounce, and he munches on a piece of bacon. “Oh, I’m in. I was in the moment you dropped your towel. You’ve already felt how eager my dick is for you, and if you were to peer beneath the table, you’d see how much he’s enjoying this conversation.”

I gasp and move to look, but he reaches out, snatching my wrist, stopping me. His eyes are fierce in warning.

“You’ll see plenty of him soon enough. But, love?—”

“It’s only this week,” I say in no uncertain terms, cutting him off. “I know. I agree, so you don’t have to worry. It’ll just be fun. A lot of exploration. No feelings will be involved. We have this week, and it’s us doing this thing where I help you and you help me, but that’s it.”

Something crosses his face but clears before I can tell what it is. “Agreed,” he pushes out. “I have rules though.” He starts cutting into his omelet, and I do the same with mine.

“Such as?” I ask as I fork a bite into my mouth.

“You let me lead. You do as I say without question unless it truly makes you uncomfortable. You trust that I won’t hurt you or take you down a path I don’t think you can handle.”

I swallow my eggs, practically choking on them since my throat suddenly went dry. Washing them down with a large sip of coffee, I think about that. “That’s an awful lot of trust for a man I hardly know.”

“You know me. It’s just been a while. Besides, you clearly trust me enough to ask me to be your sexual guru.”

“Fine. Touché. Will you hurt me?”

His eyes grow impossibly dark, and his tongue swipes out, gliding along his bottom lip. “Only in ways I know you’ll love. Don’t worry, princess. I vow to take good care of you.”

Heat blooms on my cheeks, and I giggle lightly. “This is not where I thought my week would go.”

His lips twitch. “Mine either, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it now, whereas before I wasn’t.” I’m about to say it’s the same for me when he cuts me off with, “I fucking want to eat you instead of these eggs.”

“Dex!”

He laughs at my outrage. “You better start getting used to it.” He winks at me, and I shake my head.

There is no denying him when he smiles at you like that. All green eyes and full lips and boyish dimples. Dex is too gorgeous to be real. He has the kind of face that makes your chest flutter and your insides squirm every time you look at him. He stops women in their tracks and makes them stare mindlessly. I assume he’s used to it by now. He got famous quickly. Almost straight after high school, a label picked him up and turned him into a household name.

He’s talented, and his music is amazing. But there’s a lot to be said about the way his mouth curls around not just song lyrics but his dirty words and the resulting way my body responds. It makes me nervous. In both a good and a bad way. I’m going to have to let go of my inhibitions and lock down my heart if I’m going to keep up with him this week.

He sits forward and drops his forearms on the table, all playfulness gone. “We can’t ever let Will know about this. He’d slaughter me. His wife is his greatest love, and you’re not just her sister, but her twin. So I’m risking some shit here, but I already know the risk will be well worth the reward.”

I roll my eyes derisively as I shift my eggs around on my plate. “I’m an adult, Dex, and I don’t think Ava will care if you and I have a holiday fling. Hell, knowing her, she’d tell me to go for it.”

His lips bounce. “Holiday fling? Is that what we’re calling this?”

“It has a certain ring to it. It sounds merry and fun. It makes me want to wear a Santa hat and nothing else.”

He laughs. “Thaaaat, I’d love to see. Oh, no wait.” He gives me a dirty once-over. “Red. Lace. Possibly with a bow over your arse so I can unwrap you like a present.” He groans. “Fuck, I’m getting too hard to be sitting here.” He shifts, visibly adjusting himself, and my empty core clenches.

A flurry of butterflies takes flight in my stomach, and I nearly belt out a girlish giggle. Holy hell. I’m going to do this. I’m actually going to have a holiday fling with Dex Chapman. A dirty holiday fling from the sound of it.

Good thing I waxed before the party last night.

And now I do laugh because last night suddenly feels so far away, and all that negative energy I’d been swimming in has suddenly evaporated. I’ve taken control of my life. Of my situation. I may be jobless, but I can work that out. I always do.

But for the first time in my life, I’m throwing caution to the wind, and I’m excited for it.

“I don’t have red lace or bows, but I did pack my naughtiest underwear.”

“Is it Santa-approved naughty list naughty?” he questions, and when his dimples pop, I remind myself it’s just one week and nothing more and to keep my high school crush where it is. In the past.

“Probably not to your rock star specifications.”

“Hmmm.” He contemplates this seriously. “Let’s finish up. I’m having an idea for your first lesson.”