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“My father’s not going to let me have my money back if I just bring some random stranger to the gala, obviously. He needs to believe we’re actually together, and for that to happen, Noah needs to believe it, too.”
“And that’s why you need to fuck him?”
I turn back to my mirror and nod at Cammie through the reflection. “Exactly.”
Cammie tilts her head, her eyes fixing mine through the mirror. “You’re not fucking him because you fancy him?”
“Ew, obviously not.”
I drop her gaze and look at my reflection.
All I see is golden hair in gleaming waves, crystal-blue eyes, glassy skin and a liar’s mouth.
Chapter 11
Mean Girl Kink
Idrinktwoglassesof wine before getting into the taxi, just to help me relax. It only works a little, because I spend the entire taxi journey staring out of the window with my chin in my palm, tapping my bubblegum-pink nails against my cheek, my stomach in knots.
No matter what Cammie is trying to get at, fucking Noah is imperative to the plan. If Noah doesn’t think I’m his by the time we get to the gala, my father will know immediately. He’ll work out exactly what I’m doing and maybe even try to call my bluff.
No. By the time we walk into that gala, every single person needs to know Noah is fucking me. Even perfect strangers need to know. It needs to be palpable, undeniable.
I have to fuck Noah—but if I alsowantto fuck him, then so what?
I’ve fucked people I didn’t want to fuck before. It’s not something I’m exactly fond of. And just because I’ve faked most of my orgasms doesn’t mean I don’t deserve real orgasms.
And Noah gives the energy of someone who would definitely make me come. Maybe it’s the fact we’re so different, or the taboo of being with someone I shouldn’t be with, or maybe it’s his big body and bold attitude that makes me feel this way. I’m not sure.
But I don’t see why I should feel shit about wanting to have sex with him.
The taxi pulls up outside the hideous block of flats. I tighten my coat around me and step out. Now I’m here, my heart becomes a scared rabbit in my chest, desperate to escape. I take a deep breath and walk up to the door, pressing Noah’s buzzer. He answers almost straight away, buzzing me in.
I take the steps slowly up to his flat, taking deep breaths. When I get to his door, I want to seem cool and collected. I don’t even know why I’m so nervous anyway—he’s the one who should be an anxious mess right now.
Because when I was getting ready, I made sure Noah wouldn’t be able to reject me this time. That’s why I’m wearing a full-length black trench coat over the prettiest pink lingerie I own—French lace and pearls—and bright pink heels. I look like a million dollars, like a gift from the gods.
Noah should be the one who’s nervous to see me. Not the other way around.
Once I get to his door, I raise my hand to knock, but the door opens before I can. Noah’s in grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt—but I barely have time to even look at his face. He pulls me to him, lifting me into his arms and dragging me into his flat. His door slams shut and he pushes me into it, pressing his body into mine and claiming my mouth in a hungry kiss.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and have to stop myself from moaning into his mouth when his tongue glides against mine. He’s kissing me like he’s starving for it—starving forme. He’s kissing me like he wants to own me.
Maybe he was more jealous than he let on.
He pulls away with a husky intake of breath, but I catch his bottom lip between my teeth and bite—hard. Hard enough to draw a gasp of shock or pain from him. He swipes his thumb over his lip and looks at it.
“You drew blood.”
I smirk at him. “So?”
His eyes darken, but he speaks with a half-smile. “You’re one vicious little bitch.”
“You shouldn’t have made me wait.”
He lifts me up against him, hands under my ass, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms circling his neck.
Pressing a kiss against my neck, he murmurs, “I’ll make it up to you, princess.”
