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“Stop being so dramatic,” he says. “Nothing’s changed. I admit I was thrown for a loop for a split-second, but I still want to fuck you. The only difference now is I’m aware I’ve been your mark all along. Well, bravo, Georgina. Well played. But like I said, that’s not a deal-breaker for me. I just like knowing the price list in advance, that’s all.” He looks me up and down. “The menu of options, shall we say, of what I’m getting in exchange for giving this stepsister’s music a listen.”
I ball my fists, forcing myself not to punch his smug face. “I’m not being dramatic,” I shout. “I’m disgusted and enraged at you because you’re a pig and a jerk who’s treating me like a whore. Because I’ve suddenly realized: I hate you.”
He laughs. “You hate me? And you’re not being dramatic? Okay.” He leans his broad shoulder against the post of the iron fence, and then puts a languid hand in his pocket. “Let me remind you: you’re the one who’s had an ulterior motive this whole time, as you’ve been winking at me, and kissing me, and pushing your tits at me at all the right angles, and—”
“Fuck off, Reed!” I shout. “Fuck off and die, you arrogant, rude, self-entitled piece of shit.”
“Oh, my, my, my. And I’m the asshole here? Nice language, Georgina. Tsk, tsk.”
I palm my cheek in mock horror. “Oh, no, did I hurt your sensitive ears with my filthy mouth, Mr. Rivers? Or does this cut even deeper than that?” I add my other palm to my face. “Oh, no. Did I hurt your actual feelings? This whole time, were you thinking I might actually be your Cinderella, and you might actually be my Prince Charming? Do you, like Bryce, believe in love at first sight?” I put my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “Or is it simply that this is the first time you can’t have what you want, and it’s killing you? That’s what’s got you so worked up, isn’t it—knowing you’re never, ever gonna fuck this epicness?” I motion to my body. “Too bad, sweetheart, because I promise I would have been the best you’ve ever had.”
His nostrils flare. His chest heaves. And thanks to the massive boner straining inside his pants, there’s no question my punch has landed. “Okay, enough,” he says. “Stop acting like a petulant child and come inside. It’s cold out here and you’re pissing me off.”
“Sucks to be you, I guess. I’ve already called an Uber.”
“Cancel it. We’re going inside now. I’m gonna listen to one of your stepsister’s songs—one—but only if you promise not to have a fucking tantrum if I tell you she’s not a fit. And then, in exchange for me listening to that one song, we’re going straight to my bedroom, where I’m gonna rip off those clothes, tie you to my bed posts, and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. So hard, you’ll be seeing stars. So well, you’ll be crying for mercy and coming harder than you knew was possible.”
He’s going to tie me to his bed posts? My traitorous clit pulses sharply at the imagery. But, still, in my white-hot rage, I stay the course. “You’re not gonna do any of that,” I spit out. “And you wanna know why? Because I don’t fuck assholes.”
Reed’s eyes are on fire, his indignation from a moment ago now replaced by white-hot lust. “Come inside and play me the goddamned fucking song, Georgie, so I can fuck your brains out, for both our benefits. We don’t have all night and I’m losing my fucking mind over you. Not to mention my fucking patience, too.”
I scoff. “I’m not going inside with you. And I’m not going to play my stepsister’s music for you, either, because you don’t deserve to hear it.”
He sighs and looks at his watch. “Can we fast-forward this part, please? Unfortunately, I’m flying commercial and can’t delay my flight.”
I look down at my phone. “My Uber is one minute away. The longest minute of my life.”
“Cancel it,” he commands. “For the love of fuck, you’ve come this far. Use your head, Georgina. The chess game is over. I said yes to listening to a song.” He sighs. “Fine. If you cancel the Uber and come inside right now, I’ll listen to two songs.”
“Oh, you’re begging me now? Negotiating against yourself? How delicious. Well, beg all you want, Mr. Big Shit. The answer is still no. Because no matter how great Alessandra is—and trust me, she is great—you’re going to say she sucks, just to push my buttons. That’s clear to me now. You’re a Defcon one level button-pusher, Reed Rivers. I realize that now. And I’m not willing to play your stupid game of chess.”
