Chapter 24

CHAPTER24

TATE

There are all sorts of things I can think of that Scarlett can help me with.

Relieving some of this sexual tension that’s been brewing between us pretty much since the day we met? Yep.

Helping me relieve some of this stress that I’ve been carrying with any sort of sexual favor, preferably a blow job? Most definitely.

I sound like a sex-obsessed pervert in my own thoughts. It was bad enough before I saw her in the bikini, but now that I’ve caught a glimpse of that bangin’ body of hers? Held her close while in the pool and been just about to do God knows what with her before Roger so rudely interrupted us? It’s all I can think about.

Her. She’s all I can think about.

Then she has to go and be sweet too.

The server shows up before I can say anything to her, bringing with him our crab cakes and delivering them onto the table with a flourish. He offers me a particular look that says, I know who you are, and if you’re lucky, I’ll keep it to myself.

But I’m not too sure if I trust the dude. This restaurant’s clientele is made up mostly of people who want to see or be seen, and I’d guess the employees are paid to reveal who’s dining inside to whatever media outlet wants to know—for a price. Roger chose this location with purpose—he wants Scarlett and me being seen out together. I wonder if there will be paparazzi outside waiting for us when we leave.

Probably. And that just ups my stress level another couple of notches.

“These look delicious,” Scarlett says, eyeing the crab cakes like she wants to fuck them.

I scrub a hand over my face, mentally telling myself to calm down. Not everything has to do with sex, right? “Yeah, they do.”

She grabs one of the small plates the server brought us and forks up a crab cake, then passes the plate over to me before she gets one for herself. I watch her eat, my senses on high alert when I hear her murmur a low “mmm.”

Damn it, I’m starting to sweat.

“Are you not hungry?” Her soft voice brings me out of my sexual trance, my gaze meeting hers almost guiltily. “I’m starving. We haven’t eaten anything since the plane.”

“Yeah. I’m hungry. Just . . . distracted.” I cut off a piece of crab cake and pop it into my mouth, emitting my own low groan when the flavors burst on my tongue. “That’s good.”

“Right? So delicious.”

We continue eating, the occasional low hum of approval leaving one of us—mostly her—and we polish off the appetizer quickly. When the server returns, we order our main entrées, and once he leaves, Scarlett leans over the table like she wants to tell me a secret, her lips barely moving when she speaks.

“People are staring at us.”

I glance around as subtly as I can, noting the way people are blatantly checking us out. I make eye contact with a guy at the table across from ours, and he straight-up lifts his phone and takes a photo of us. I send him a snarling glare, but he only shrugs and resumes his conversation with the woman sitting at his table.

“That guy just took our picture,” I complain.

“There are other people in here who already took our photo,” Scarlett says, her voice hushed. “Isn’t this restaurant famous for celebrities wanting attention?”

I groan. How could I forget?

“Yeah, it is.” I run a hand through my hair, already annoyed. “Maybe we should leave.”

“Roger arranged this dinner, though, right? This is what he wants.” She winces. “I hate to say it, but we should probably give him what he wants.”

She’s right. As Roger would so kindly point out, he’s paying for all of this. The least we could do is make our appearances and smile for the cameras, playing the madly-in-love couple.

This is exactly what we signed up for, but it still feels . . . what? Awkward? Weird? Like a giant lie?

All of the above.

“Okay, then we won’t leave.” I reach across the small table, grabbing her hand where it rests and interlacing our fingers. “Let’s give them what they want.”

“What do you mean?” The confusion on her face is adorable.

“They want to see us all over each other, so let’s deliver.”

The panic in her gaze is obvious, and she sits up straighter, her eyes shifting right, then left. Like she’s trying to see if people are still staring at us. “Um . . .”

“You said you’d help me out in any way you could,” I remind her, feeling like a shit for using her words against her. “And this would be a big help, Scar.”

Her face relaxes somewhat. “Do you know you’re the only person who calls me Scar?”

“Really?”

She nods. “My mom tried calling me Lettie when I was little, but I hated that.”

“I hate that too. Sounds like a little old lady’s name.” I squeeze her hand in mine, sending that slow, intimate smile in her direction. The one that set a million teenage girls’ hearts aflutter when I used to flash it toward the camera when we filmed music videos.

Her cheeks flush, and I know it worked. I’m not trying to make her squirm. I’m just trying to give the masses what they want. Me and Scarlett so wrapped up in each other, the outside world just disappears.

“Do you mind that I call you Scar?” I ask her.

“Not at all.” Her smile is small. “I kind of like it.”

I bring her hand to my mouth, dropping the lightest kiss on her knuckles. Like we’re having an intimate moment in one of the most-talked-about restaurants in the area. If people actually fall for this shit, they’re naive as hell. “I like you.”

“Tate . . .”

“Scarlett . . .” I grin at her, like we’re playing a game, which I suppose we are.

She gently pulls her hand from mine, and I let her go, never taking my eyes from her. “Why did you kiss me in the pool earlier?”

Her question knocks me off balance, my smile fading quickly. “You didn’t like it?”

“I never said that.” She doesn’t tear her gaze from mine, though her cheeks are pinker than before.

“Did I overstep my boundaries?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She rests her elbow on the table, propping her chin on her curled fist. “What was that in the pool earlier?”

“I think you know what it was.”

“Why did it happen, though? There wasn’t anyone around. No audience. We didn’t have to put on a performance like we’re doing now.” Her eyes sparkle in the dim light, and I get the distinct sense that she’s fucking with me. Or just flat-out trying to get me to admit to something. “So why?”

“You want the truth?”

“Definitely.” She nods.

I lean in close, mimicking her posture, my fist curled beneath my chin just like hers. “Because you looked hot as fuck in that pink bikini and I wanted to get my hands on you. That’s why.”

Her expression doesn’t so much as waver, which I give her props for. I was trying to throw her off like she just did to me, but I don’t think I was successful. “That’s what I thought.”

“Did you mind?”

Scarlett slowly shakes her head, seemingly trying to hide the smile that wants to curl her lips.

“Want me to do it again? Because I can.” I sit up straight, rubbing my chin. “I don’t need the bikini excuse either.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look hot in whatever you’re wearing, and you know it.” I hold up my hand when she starts speaking. “And don’t give me that ‘I need to lose weight’ excuse either. I’m not falling for it. You don’t need to lose weight. You’re gorgeous. You can have whatever you want, whoever you want, whenever you want it, yet you chose to chase after some asshole who didn’t have enough sense to figure out that the hot rich girl wanted him. Which tells me that all things sexual might actually . . . scare you.”

She sits up straighter as well, her expression turning pissy in an instant. “Is that how you think of me? As the hot rich girl? I’m more than that, you know. Despite what everyone says.”

“Oh, I definitely know. And no, that’s not how I think of you, but you have to admit, that’s what you are. At least, that’s how you present yourself to the public eye.”

Her eyes blaze with anger. “That’s not true and you know it. I try my hardest to be relatable in my videos. And what do you know about my relationship with Ian, hmm? Not a thing. You don’t know him. You don’t really know me either.”

I watch her, entranced. She’s beautiful when she’s angry. “Tell me you’re not still hung up on him.”

She hesitates. I catch it, though she probably thinks I don’t notice. “I’m over him.”

Frustration builds. I hate that Ian still has some sort of hold on her. He doesn’t deserve her. He never did.

Hell, I don’t deserve her either.

But I know one thing.

I want to make her forget that asshole was even a part of her life.

“You completely avoided the crux of my statement, you know,” I tell her, digging in a little deeper.

“What exactly are you referring to?” she asks warily.

“The ‘scared of anything sexual’ comment. You completely blew past it,” I point out.

That familiar determined expression of hers appears, and she lifts her chin, trying to look tough. “You don’t scare me.”

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about sex.” I pause. “Does it scare you?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing me the opportunity to blatantly stare at her. She’s so damn beautiful. Despite us being in this so-called fake relationship, I’m starting to have a very real attraction toward her.

I need to be real with myself—I’ve always been attracted to her. From the moment I first laid eyes on the birthday girl at her party, I thought she was beautiful. When I spoke to her? Sassy. Determined, but with that hint of innocence about her that I’m drawn to. She’s sweet. And most women I’ve been with in the past, there was nothing sweet about them.

My life has left me jaded, and no one could blame me for feeling that way. It’s just facts. And Scarlett is about the least jaded, most pure person I’ve ever been around. I like that about her. That she’s not cynical and doesn’t look at everything like an attack.

Just because I have thoughts about corrupting her—and I do, especially lately—that doesn’t mean it’s all I notice when it comes to Scarlett. There’s so much more to her. I might annoy her and make her mad, and I think I’m the only person who does that.

Makes her feel . . . other things.

“I don’t think we should have that particular discussion right now,” she says rather primly, her soft voice interrupting my thoughts.

I glance around the room before I return my attention to her. “No one is listening to us. They might be looking at us, but they can’t hear our conversation. So tell me, Scar.”

“Tell you what?” Her eyes are wide and unblinking.

“Are you scared of sex?”

She leans back from the table as if she needs the distance. “Are you trying to dig into my sexual history?”

I shrug, deciding to be completely honest with her. “Yeah. I am.”

She stares at me for a moment, that mind of hers processing my answer. “It’s really none of your business.”

“I’m curious.” I shrug. “And I want to know more about you. It’ll help bring us closer, don’t you think?”

Okay. I’m full of horseshit. I just want to know if she’s actually done the deed or not. Or if she’s done anything.

My guess is no.

“Ask me my favorite color and movie. Or what I like to eat. You need to lead up to the sex life questions.” She laughs nervously.

“So you do have a sex life.”

Scarlett remains quiet.

“Right?” I prod.

A sigh leaves her. “This is embarrassing.”

“We’re two adults here.”

“I’m barely an adult.”

“Talking about your sex life while we’re in a relationship shouldn’t be too daunting.”

“It is when what we’re doing isn’t . . .” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Real.”

She’s right. What we’re doing isn’t supposed to be real, but why does it feel like that?

This is a date. I don’t know what else to call it. And here’s what’s funny—I haven’t gone on a lot of dates in my life. I didn’t need to. I went from being with Jess to getting with a plethora of women. There was no dating going on. Just hookups.

One after another.

“Be real with me, Scar. Tell me the truth. How far have you gone?” She visibly squirms in her seat, and I’m just warming up. “What do you like doing? What do you like done to you?”

Her lips part, and I swear to God she’s breathing heavier. “Tate.”

“Just tell me. You don’t have to hold back. I’m not going to judge you. Besides, we have legal documents in place, so I can’t spill all of your secrets.” I grin at her, enjoying myself. I’m a sadistic fuck if I’m getting off on making Miss Scarlett uncomfortable with this conversation. “Tell me what you want from a sexual partner.”

“Someone who’s thoughtful and . . . affectionate.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, like she’s afraid to say more.

“That’s what you want from a relationship.” I wave a hand, dismissing her answer. “What are your kinks? What are you into? I mean, I know you’re only eighteen, so if your kink is doing it with you on top, I get it. You’ve barely dipped your toe into the sexual pool, so to speak.”

“You’re giving me serious Roger vibes right now,” she accuses, her gaze narrowed as she watches me.

I rest my hand on my chest, wounded. “Damn, Scar. That hurts. The last thing I want is to be compared to him.”

“You keep this up, digging for info about my sex life, and that’s exactly who you remind me of,” she mutters, her brows lifting.

“Just trying to get to know you.” I shrug, playing it off.

I’m being an asshole. I know I am. But it’s like I can’t help it. I feel antsy. Worked up. In the past, I would’ve eased this feeling with a combination of alcohol and drugs, topped off by sex.

Now, the only option is sex. And I want to know if I have a chance with Scarlett.

More than anything, I’m trying to figure out what she likes. What does she want? Me worshipping her body? I can do that. Going down on her? I’ve never been afraid of licking pussy, though I know a few guys who don’t like it.

Seriously. What the hell is wrong with them?

I could fuck her from behind, against a wall, in the shower—whatever she wants, I’m game.

Yeah, I’m also horny. This is why my thoughts are filled with images of Scarlett naked. Tits swaying while she sucks my cock. Tits swaying while she rides my dick. Moaning while I fuck her hard.

Reaching up, I brush my fingers against my forehead and realize that I am indeed sweating.

“I didn’t think getting to know me would include an in-depth interrogation into my sex life.” Her haughty rich-girl voice is downright arousing, which means I have a deeper problem than I thought.

“All right, let’s switch it up then. Since you asked me what I was trying to do when we were in the pool, now it’s my turn.” I smile at her, just before I hit her with, “What did you want me to do to you when we were in that pool?”