“You know what?” she says, voice casual but her eyes flashing with amusement. I already know whatever she says next will piss me off.
“Please,” I drawl dryly, “enlighten me?”
“You need to let loose once in a while, Evan. You’re so stiff all the time, you look like you’ve got a stick permanently shoved up your ass. I mean that might be your thing – I don’t judge – But.” My teeth grind together, which only seems to encourage her. She’s enjoying this. “Maybe you should come have some fun for once. Blow off some steam. I know just the place.”
Oh, if only she knew about the place I went for fun. How exactly I let off steam. It would give her nightmares for months.
But still, Anais loves this game we seem to be playing and who am I to deny her fun?
And even though I’d rather chop off my balls than go anywhere with her, I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of being right.
I have fun, plenty of it actually, but I can’t deny something shifts when I’m around Anais. It’s like I’m always on edge, bracing myself and waiting for her to pounce.
And without a doubt she’d pounce if I gave her the chance.
I would bet my whole fucking bank account on it.
I motion toward the elevator, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Lead the way, Brat.”
Of all the places Anais could bring me, we end up in a shitty karaoke dive in one of the shadiest parts of the city. She’s on stage now, belting out a song I can’t name, sounding like a strangled cat, and loving every second of it.
Anais can’t sing for shit, but damn if she doesn’t light up the place. She’s in her element, not a care in the world.
I’ve never seen this side of Anais Lauder. Imperfect. Free. And for some reason, I don’t hate it. It intrigues me. Honestly, except for a brief time after the Valentina fiasco, I haven’t spent much time with her since childhood. I just assumed she was another entitled, wealthy kid, like most children of the rich and famous. Yet, here in this dingy bar, a place none of my friends or anyone I know would ever set foot in, she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her.
It’s obvious she comes here often. She knows the staff by name, and it seems as though many University students liked the place, given how many of them she greeted. And as I scan my surroundings, taking in the dirty floors, the grimy walls and every single man in this place drooling over her, my blood boils. For some unknown, insane reason, I don’t like them looking at her, and I definitely don’t like the thought of her in this place alone. One boy in particular seemed unusually focused on her.
As the song ends, she bows dramatically and laughs when the crowd cheers. I sit straighter in my chair, bringing my beer to my lips and taking a sip as I watch her place the microphone down. She’s glowing. Chest heaving, face flushed. Alive in a way I’ve never seen before.
She walks back toward me, still catching her breath. My gaze drops to her breasts on their own volition, the way they sit perfectly in that pale blue blouse, the way they… I tear my gaze away when she speaks.
“So, what did you think?” she asks, eyeing me expectantly before lifting her bottle of water and chugging it down.
“I think strangled cats would have sounded better,” I deadpan.
A laugh bursts from her lips, and I can’t help the smirk tugging at mine.
“That’s the beauty in it, Evan. I don’t care how I sound. I just love the feeling it gives me when I’m up there.” She shrugs.
“You can’t sing for shit, Anais,” I tell her honestly. It wasn’t just bad, it was horrific.
She laughs, the sound so airy and light it hits me straight between the legs. I shift in my seat, adjusting my bulge discreetly.
Fucks’ sake. Don’t you start.
“How will I live, knowing Evan Maxwell doesn’t like my singing?” she pouts.
“Stop being dramatic.”
“Hey. You say I’m dramatic. But an octopus literally eats itself when stressed, so I think I’m doing okay.” I stare at her dumbfounded. She smirks. “Why don’t you have a go? You never know, you might like it.” She tilts her head, a challenge flickering in her eyes.
“Not a chance,” I drawl. “I think I’ve suffered enough for one evening. Time to leave.”
She rolls her eyes, but her face is filled with humor. “Killjoy.” She drops her empty bottle of water to the table and grabs her purse. “Come on then,sir. You can drop me home.” She winks.
My cock jerks whensirfalls from her lips. And unbidden, I briefly wonder how it would sound in a different context. Her beneath me, moaning the word while I’m balls deep.
I quickly shake the thought away.
