Out of our systems.
That was what she said in the library. That they’d hooked up once and had presumably extinguished whatever magnetic charge pulsed between them, therefore never needing to do it again.
Now his fingers dip into crimson lace as he wonders if Ramona is already wedged so deep in his system that only a crowbar could get her out.
First he presses them to his face. Inhales, and—oh. He can still smell her, earthy and feminine. She’d been so wet for him in these panties. The way she’d trembled and bucked around his finger, sliding her hips along his slick touch…fuck, he’d give anything to feel her again. He wishes he’d licked her. He’s desperate to know the way she tastes, to be fully consumed by her.
Heartbeat roaring in his ears, he lowers her panties to his erection. A few experimental tugs, and then he loses himself a bit more. Clutches himself harder. In his head, he’s bending her over his desk, undoing her tie with his teeth. Giving her every compliment he’s held back, whispered directly into her skin.
He feels fucking depraved, pumping the fabric around his cock, but he doesn’t care. He needs this release more than oxygen. So he watches the red lace slide back and forth, until he can’t take it anymore and squeezes his eyes shut, giving in to the fantasy.
17
Two years ago on theSilhouettes Tour, Ramona was still trying to convince herself this career may not actually destroy her after all. She’d just stabilized on her antidepressants and broken up with a mediocre boyfriend, making her feel free and unattached. DeeAnn was fresh off a stem cell facial and peppier than ever.
Her opener was a young country-pop singer with a four-octave vocal range. And for a while, despite her mother’s warnings not to get too close to anyone, their friendship made it bearable.
Now Arlie J sits across from her at an outdoor table at a hip café in Venice, arguably on the verge of becoming more famous than Ramona ever was.
“Can you believe they wanted me to sprawl in the grass with all those goats?” Arlie gives a dismayed shake of her head, her strawberry waves catching the sunlight as she talks about the music video she just finished shooting. “There was shiteverywhere. I’m all for a little sacrifice in the name of art, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“So what did you do?”
“My team talked them out of it, thank god. Now I’m just holding a baby goat instead.”
Ramona pushes around the edamame, hemp seeds, lentils, and hard-boiled eggs in her $28 protein bowl. It needs more dressing. And honestly, less protein.
They’re both wearing sunglasses, Arlie in a wide-brimmed hat that might actually make her look more conspicuous, not less. Dining outside like this, without anyone on her former security team nearby, isn’t something Ramona ever would have done before her retirement. But Arlie has this giving-zero-fucks attitude about it that’s a little contagious.
She hadn’t expected Arlie to follow through on the offer to get lunch sometime, but when she texted right after Halloween, Ramona was eager for a distraction and suggested the next day.
In hindsight, the schoolgirl costume was a little on the nose. But she’d been planning it long before she invited Nick to the party, and she liked the way she felt in it. And if Nick had a reaction to it? That was just an added benefit.
Maybe they’d gotten too close. Maybe that was mostly probably nearly 100 percent Ramona’s fault. But she can’t help it. She’s allowed to have fun, she reasons, and Nick Navarro isfunin a way she never anticipated.
And it was very, very fun, the way he blushed and turned speechless when she told him he’d been her first orgasm.
She doesn’t get nervous around boys, but this is not a boy. This is a thirty-six-year-old man, and though she’s dated older guys, she’s never been with anyone who seems this solidlyadult. Not that she’s with him, of course. They’ve made that clear. But for nearly ten years, guys have seemed interested in only onepiece of her, like she was a giant trout they’d caught on a fishing trip and could pose with in pictures. They wanted her as a prize, but then made it clear she was not long-term-girlfriend material. Maybe they couldn’t see beyond the risqué photo shoots and videos—if the media treated her like a sex object, everyone else did, too. It stuck in her head, convinced her she didn’t want anything long-term, either.
So why does she have a feeling Nick couldn’t give less of a fuck about her status?
The way they danced together makes it impossible for her not to imagine what he’d be like in bed. Their struggle for power in the classroom—maybe she’d let him win. His body over hers, lips trailing across her skin.You didn’t turn in the homework,he might say.Naughty, naughty. He could tie her up. Spank her. Fuck her on his desk again, with his pants at his feet and fingertips pressed into her hips.
And all of this is exactly why she needed to get out of the house.Go straight to horny jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
There’s a lull in the conversation, both women sipping house-made kombucha.
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” Arlie says after a moment. “You know I won’t tell anyone. But you can’t really bedone, can you? Like, are you working on some kind of comeback?”
Ramona’s almost thrown by her directness, but Arlie’s always been open, rarely hiding how she really feels. Funny, how the media loves her honesty but called Ramona too angry when she dared speak out about anything. As though they were pressed into certain molds back before the world christened them pop stars. She remembers a time she was groped by a fan after a show and posted a rant about boundaries, about how she deserved to be treatedlike a human being, and an article declaredRAMONA WILDER HATES HER FANS. DeeAnn made her film an apology.
“I just can’t imagine getting up onstage and performing again,” Ramona says. “I had the worst panic attacks before every show on my last tour. None of it’s worth that.”
Arlie nods vigorously, reaching across the table to give Ramona’s hand a squeeze. “Your mental health has to come first. You could always pivot to fashion, or beauty, or something like that. We’re working on a line of sustainable lip tints right now.”
“Arlie J Cosmetics does have a nice ring to it.”
“I thought so too! Anyway, we’re doing a lot of testing because we want it to be cruelty-free, vegan, all of that good stuff, but I’ll let you know before we launch. We’ll send you some samples.”
