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I nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, ease me,” I suggest. “Because we all know the dangers of going too hard too soon.”
Becs’ face scrunches. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A wide grin stretches across my face. “Remember when you tried anal for the first time? You sure as hell didn’t ease into that,” I laugh. “You went in blind and unprepared, forgot the lube, and nearly tore your ass in half. So, from one friend to another, I’m asking you not to allow history to repeat itself.Ease me into it. Take it slow. Don’t ass fuck me without lube.”
“You are not seriously comparing my ass stitches and a night in the hospital to you going to a club with me.”
“I thought it was a great comparison,” I admit with a shrug and a dorky grin, secretly hoping that the club she plans to take me to isn’t one of Izaac’s. He owns three of them—Pulse, Cherry, and Scandal being his newest—but Becs knows better than to take me to any of those, even if they are the best clubs in town.
Becs rolls her eyes and strides into the kitchen with the ice cream, making her way to my freezer when she stops, spying the other empty container on the counter. “Wait,” she says, glancing back at me, her eyes widening with pure disgust. “You’re already on to your second tub?”
I press my lips into a hard line, not willing to admit what she can already clearly see. I’m also not willing to admit the way my stomach seems to be screaming at me for the afternoon of abuse. “Ummmm . . . no.”
“Aspen! Gross. My lactose intolerance could never,” she says, and the hint of fear flashing in her honey-brown eyes immediately forces an unwanted image into my brain. “This much ice cream would have me redecorating the bathroom for days.”
“Thanks for that visual,” I murmur under my breath, secretly proud of my iron-clad stomach that hasn’t managed to let me down yet, not even with the questionable food truck tacos near campus.
“Any time. Now, go and put your ass through a shower. You’re gonna need it where we’re going. And don’t forget to wash your fanny. And while you’re at it, maybe break out the old razor. You’re gonna want to shave everything from the chin down,” she all but sings, offering me a smug grin. “Make it quick. I’m dying to get out of here.”
“Why are you so eager?” I ask, peeling off my Grinch pajamas on the way to the bathroom. Becs is undoubtedly going to pick my outfit for the night, and I can guarantee nearly every inch of my skin will be exposed. But I can’t lie, Becs has incredible taste when it comes to fashion. If her business degree doesn’t work out, I’m sure she could have an incredible career as a stylist if she ever chose to go down that road.
Becs follows me into the bathroom, hovering at the mirror as I step into the shower. “Just trust me,” she says as I turn on the taps and wait for the water to warm. “I don’t want to give anything away, otherwise, I’ll never get you out of here. All I’m saying is that it’s a new club and super exclusive. This guy I know works the bar every Friday night and was able to get an invite with a plus one, so we’re checking it out.”
“Shit? Really?” I ask, stepping into the water and letting it cascade over my head like a waterfall. The idea of attending an exclusive club fills me with deep curiosity. “What kind of club is it?”
“That’s the part I can’t tell you,” she says, meeting my gaze through the mirror, her honey-brown eyes darkening with excitement.
Ahh crap. That’s not good.
“Then what can you tell me?” I say, lathering shampoo through my thick chestnut hair while hoping like fuck I remembered to buy new razors.
“Just that you’re going to have an incredible night. And for your sake, I really hope you take advantage of what’s on offer. Push your limits, maybe even try something you’ve never done before.”
The fuck?
“I—wait,” I grunt, my face scrunching up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I question, trying to make sense of what she just said. It’s not like I’ve never been to a club before. How many different experiences could I possibly be having tonight?
Becs laughs and makes her way out of the bathroom. “My lips are sealed,” she sings, her eyes sparkling with silent laughter. “And hurry up. I’ll pick you something cute to wear, and I promise you, by the time the night is over, Izaac Banks will be a distant memory.”
And with that, she’s gone.
Izaac Banks.
God, just his name makes my stomach roil with butterflies.
He’s been my brother’s best friend since before I can remember. My brother, Austin, is six years older than me, and for as long as I can remember, he and Izaac have been tied at the hip, causing havoc everywhere they go. Every childhood memory I have of Austin also includes Izaac. He’s part of the furniture, practically family. Only, that’s the problem. To Izaac, I’m just a kid, a little sister he’s always looked out for, but to me, that’s never been the case.
I’ve been mesmerized by him since I was ten years old. I was a little girl with one hell of a crush. He’s always been the whole damn sky to me. The perfect chiseled abs, with the most delicious devilish grin. The only problem is, he’s also the perfect definition of a walking red flag.
Ha.The only problem.Who am I kidding? There’s a shitload more problems than just that. There’s a whole list of problems that come along with why Izaac will never want me. Hell, the fact that he’s Austin’s best friend is a big one. Every other reason doesn’t even matter when that big one sits at the very top of the list.
The women Izaac dates are gorgeous, freaking supermodels, and when he looks at me . . . I see it. Pity. Despite being twenty-two, he still sees me as his best friend’s pathetic little sister who has drooled over him for most of her life.
Everything about him should have me running for the hills, yet every time that dark, wicked stare lands on me, my knees go weak. There’s not a damn thing he can do that’s ever sent me running in the opposite direction, not even walking in on him screwing some random woman two Christmases ago. I just keep holding on to the hope that maybe one day, something might change.
Like I said—pathetic.
I’d give anything to have him think of me in the way that I think of him. But after sitting on the sideline for twelve years, I’ve realized that’s never going to happen.
