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Exiting the bathroom, Will’s eyes fall onto my legs. His gaze is exploring my exposed skin.
“You plan to do what exactly in my shirt and your heels?”
“I don?
??t know, take a cab,” I mumble, wincing my eyes to ignore the pulse inside my head.
“I’m taking you to bed.”
“I don’t want to have sex with you,” I say, defeated. “Besides, you’re old.”
“I’m not suggesting we have sex. I’m ordering you to sleep in my bed because you’ll thank me in the morning when hopefully, your hangover is less than vile. And besides, you’re too young.”
“You’re not my dad.”
“If I were your dad, knowing Lex, you’d be flown back to LA and confined to a nunnery. Stop being so stubborn.”
He orders me to follow him to his bedroom. Opening the door, the lights turn on but not too bright. There’s a king-size bed with black satin sheets, which looks so good right about now, and nothing else besides a large glass window overlooking the Hudson River.
I stand beside him until he motions for me to get in. Sitting on the edge, I remove my heels, then climb in beneath the sheets. It feels fantastic, but I wonder how many women have been in this bed and when he last had the sheets cleaned.
Will leaves the room but returns moments later with Advil and a glass of water.
“Drink this, take this, and go to sleep.”
“Where are you sleeping?”
“On the couch. Why? I can sleep next to you, but sweetheart, just letting you know that sleeping with you will cause you more problems than for me.”
“You’re a jerk,” I mutter.
He hovers next to the bed, continuing to stare at me.
“Is there something wrong? Has my dad ordered you to sit and watch me all night?”
“Happy birthday, Amelia, and good luck tomorrow morning.”
I close my eyes, ignoring his scent splashed all over the pillows and how, even in my intoxicated state, I wonder what it would be like to taste his skin with my lips. The door behind him closes, and the second he leaves, that familiar ache between my legs returns. I try my best to ignore it, moving in various positions, but it begins to consume me. Maybe if I just touch myself, it will go away. My fingers inch toward my thighs, then slowly graze between my legs. Instantly, my body grows hot and feverish, a fluttery sensation bouncing inside my stomach.
I graze myself again, but this time, I arch my back, and the desire is too much to ignore. My fingers move faster, the pool of wet building between my thighs putting me on the verge of combusting. I turn my head, burying my face into the pillow when all I can smell is Will.
A sudden flush of warmth spreads all over me, my body jerking at the sensitive touch of my fingers. The shallow breaths make it hard to swallow until I finally gain some control, my body sinking further into the bed.
I can’t move a single limb, not even to reach beside me and find a tissue to wipe between my legs.
Sleep is imminent.
Slowly, my eyes begin to droop, and I can see Will’s face, almost as if he were in this very room, watching me.
Twelve
Will
I watch her sleep despite my reluctance to do so.
Before I stepped into the room hours ago, soft moans filtered from behind the closed door. My mind began playing tricks on me—dirty tricks—and instantly, I stepped away and stood on my balcony to clear my runaway thoughts.
The chill in the night air is exactly what I need, a cold slap on my face after what has been a tumultuous night. I don’t nurse the whisky I poured myself for long, downing it in close to one go and allowing the warmth to spread throughout me.
