Eighteen

CORA

“I’m going to be straight with you,” Everett says while he shoves his cock—his pierced cock—back into his boxer briefs. “This isn’t remotely close to how I saw this going.”

While I tug my robe back on, I catch a glimpse of the gold ball end on the underside of his cock head. The prickly feeling of a three am nightmare scatters down the stretches of my arms, and my legs have gone airy as if the floors have lost their firmness. What the fuck .

“Please say something,” he urges, taking a step closer.

My hand flies up, the first action I’ve managed in an entire minute. “How did you expect this to go?”

Everett swallows and lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t want to say.”

I know the answers. I do. I know the answer to everything I’m about to ask because it’s my thing: I understand why people behave the way they do. Every word—every movement—is a cue I read like a second language. For most of my life, it was survival. Manipulation, obfuscation—I needed them to convince my parents I was the model daughter they wanted. But all that time, I was a liar. I swore I would never be a liar again.

Lo and behold, I went and fell for one. I fell so hard for him.

“Don’t I deserve the truth?” I reply, hating the quiver at the end of my sentence.

“I didn’t—”

“Then admit you’ve had that piercing for months.”

He shakes his head. “Look—”

“Answer my question.”

“A month.”

“A month ago?”

Everett’s face is stone. He closes his eyes, waits, and when he opens them again, his expression is resigned. “I got it done a month after I met you.”

I knew the answer and it still stings. “ That was six months ago .”

“I know.”

“A month after you met me, you were actively avoiding me. On the rare occasions when we were around each other, you were a certified organic dick. But all this time, you actually had feelings for me?”

Everett nods.

“ Are you out of your mind ?” I demand. I gesture at his crotch. “Did you do it for me? Or did you wake up one morning, dust off your Ivy League diplomas with your eight-figure trust fund, and randomly decide to get your dick pierced?”

“I did it for you,” he confirms, bobbing his head, seemingly eager to confess for once. “I heard you talking to Valeria and Essie about your ex.”

My jaw slackens. One of my exes did have a piercing and I did love it—maybe too much. When he cheated on me at the end of our relationship, I was honestly just dating the piercing.

“You said it was the most magical cock you had ever fucked,” he goes on, taking a tentative step forward. “And I have this thing, princess, where I have trouble coming in second place.”

My body reacts to the words. The cockiness, the bravado—they do it for me. They always have.

He senses my indecision and takes another step forward, but I hold up my hand.

“Stay there. We’re so far from being done.”

“Understood.”

“You lied,” I go on. “You lied exactly the way I predicted in the hospital. If you liked me, how could you be such a jerk to me?”

“The night I met you was…” Everett looks to the side like he’s remembering it. “You were so pretty. Hot too. The dress you were wearing was, like…mind-altering.” His eyes meet mine again. “And you were curious about the Perseids. Even Dalton and Lander don’t give a damn about meteors, but you did.”

“So, let me guess: You pushed me away to protect your political career.” I roll my eyes. “Spare me. I’ve heard this cliché before.”

“Close. At first, yeah, pushing you away was the plan. Then I took those pictures of you.”

“Naked.”

“Mostly naked. You wore a strap-on,” he clarifies, and he absently licks his lips between sentences. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your incredible body and how readily you showed it off. Those piercings all over you. The leather straps. It’s like you rewired my brain. I’ve been a vegan since I was eleven years old, and the sight of leather was making me hard.”

“But you pierced your cock for a woman you knew you could never be with? I don’t get it.”

Everett blinks, and his expression is grave.

Oh. “You did plan on being with me,” I finally realize. “How?”

His gaze breaks.

“Tell me.” I urge, glaring. “Fucking tell me, Everett.”

“I was going to get elected first,” he admits, sighing. “After I had some credibility, I figured I could convince you to…”

“Wait around until you became the president?” I let out a clipped laugh that extends a few seconds too long before understanding slaps me across the face. I stop laughing immediately. “You wanted me to be your mistress. You wanted to sneak around and hide me—like you’re trying to do right now. ”

“It’s not like that,” he protests before pausing. “I mean, yes, I want to sneak around with you, but I don’t want you to be my mistress. I wanted you to—I want you to be my girl.”

“Your girl?” I shake my head. “Stop. Stop . You’re such a politician. A secret girl and a mistress are the same damn thing. ”

“Right. You’re right. I know it wasn’t a flawless plan, but—”

“Was it even a plan? Because this sounds more like something you cooked up after eating one of Dalton’s gross edibles.”

“Hey. He’s really proud of those,” Everett protests lightly.

“Whatever. Just tell me: Back when you were ignoring me one day and piercing your dick the next, why did you think I would want you after you were so cold to me?”

“Because you liked it,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I fascinated you. I could see it. The way you studied me. The way you spoke to me. The way you toyed with me.”

“Toyed,” I repeat. “What are you talking about?”

He raises his shoulder. “We both knew you could rip me to shreds if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You just toyed with me. Insulted me back. Mocked me. Provoked me…and I liked it too.”

This time, I’m quiet. I fold my arms over my chest, waiting.

“There’s something here. You feel it. I sure as hell do. You and I…we get each other, don’t we?”

“Everett—”

“We’re sardonic. Blunt. Endearingly dickheaded. And neither of us minds being brought down. In fact, we both welcome it. It makes things more fun, doesn’t it?”

My lips press together in a line. I don’t lie, and correcting him would be a lie.

Everett is right. He has always fascinated me. Even the night we met, when he was in a crowded bar, talking about driving to Shenandoah to look at meteors, I knew there was more to this guy than his policy wonk persona. The puzzle has only gotten more complicated and fascinating since then: his capacity for taking shit from his friends and from me, his innate sense that I like to be degraded, his willingness to do it—and his own desire for it.

For months, I thought I didn’t understand him. I now realize, I know so much about him—and he knows me just as well.

“You have this effect on me,” he goes on. “It scares me and excites me all at once. Nobody has ever rattled me like this. Only you.”

I can feel myself softening to his explanation, but the thing is, he wants me to soften to him.

Political charm. Manipulation.

“But you lied to me,” I remind him—and I’ll never stop reminding him.

With those words, every bit of expectation that arose over the last few confessions disappears from Everett’s face.

“Not just for seven months, but in the hospital too,” I continue. “You lied. You didn’t just want to fuck me.”

“I panicked. I don’t panic, but I expected you to—”

“To be an easy whore? Let’s be clear, Everett: I let you play with me, but it’s a game. I’m not your whore, and if you had to lie to get me, then you never had me.”

His exhale is slow and measured as usual, set against a convincingly contrite expression. “I get it. I want to apologize.”

The temptation to hear him out is there, but I know better. “Don’t bother.” I raise my chin at the door. “Go.”

Everett freezes like he just realized he can’t talk his way out of the situation. “Wait. Wait —”

“We could keep hashing out the reasons why you decided to lie, but none of them would change the fact that you lied . ”

He steps closer to me. “Wait—”

“You don’t know me, Everett. You don’t know shit about me, clearly. But you’re going to know this: I will never tolerate lies.”

Finally, he closes the gap between us, eyes wild and desperate. “Please. Please let me apologize. I’ll beg. I’ll get on my knees.” He puts his hands on my face and kisses me. “Please.” He kisses me again. “ Please .”

“Everett—” I shake my head, trying to evade his lips.

“Please,” he murmurs, putting another kiss on my forehead. My cheeks. My chin. His lips find my mouth, and it’s all-consuming. There’s an urgency and a heat behind every kiss we’ve shared, like he’s constantly aware that I could deprive him of my touch at any moment. It’s frenetic. It’s electric. It’s a collision of want and need. I kiss him back, indulging in the slide of his tongue against mine, and I wish it could be simple. I wish Everett and I could fuck without the history that led to this moment. No strings. No baggage. No repercussions.

We can’t though. It’s ruined.

It doesn’t matter that Everett is handsome, and intelligent, and the first person to take my causticity in stride and return it. It doesn’t matter that his hands feel good, and his kiss feels even better. It doesn’t matter that he’s game for my kinks like no man I’ve known—and we haven’t even fucked. I can’t trust what he says.

Not after last time.

I push him away, and he stumbles back, watching me press my fingertips to my lips. His taste lingers, so I fold my lips over my teeth and bite down. When I release them, the faint metallic lick of blood touches my tongue.

Cora . He mouths my name, but he doesn’t say it.

I reach past him and open the door. “Some hearts are capable of surviving a break. Two, if you’re lucky.” I swallow hard and look into the hallway when I say, “I’m not lucky, Everett, and I have nothing left to give you. Go.”