“Because he said afterward that it was just for the video,” I tell her.

  Her upper lip curls in disgust. “He said that?”

  I nod. “Not to me, but to everyone else.”

  It goes quiet for a minute, as if she doesn’t know what to say, and I don’t blame her. I haven’t known what to say either.

  “It’s just not a thing, him and me.” I try to sound nonchalant about it, but it comes out sadder than I intended. “I mean, until lately we were hardly even friends. Having a thing for him is as useless as an umbrella in LA.”

  She exhales and smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry, babes. At least you get to play pretend. Maybe that will help you get over him. And hey, you can even use his thirst traps as diddle material in the meantime.”

  I snort. “Diddle material?”

  “Oh, right,” she rolls her eyes. “You live the high life, with top-of-the-line vibrators and clit suckers.”

  “Dear God, we are not talking about masturbating right now.”

  Her grin widens. “Oh, we most certainly are. Besides, it’s not like you’d be the first, last, or only person to play with themselves while watching his videos.”

  “That’s…” I pause and scrunch my nose. “Disturbing. Not that I’ve ever watched his thirst traps. Now I’m thinking you ruined them for me before I got started, so thank you for that.”

  “Wait.” Her face goes deadly serious. “You mean you’ve never looked at his Swype?”

  I shake my head. “Not the videos, no. I had no reason to. He was a dick. And now my reason not to is because I’m going to imagine the millions of girls who use them as diddle material.”

  “No. Absolutely not,” she says decidedly. “You’re not going to deprive yourself like that. You need to go watch them.”

  “Why?” I ask. “What’s so special about a few thirst traps?”

  She smirks. “Let’s just say he didn’t get where he is by mediocrity at any level. Have fun!”

  The FaceTime ends before I can argue further, and I’m left staring at my home screen. I have every intention of just putting my phone down and going to bed. I do. But then my curiosity starts to get the better of me, and the next thing I know, I’m opening Swype.

  “Just one, so I can say I’ve seen one. Then I’m going to bed,” I whisper to myself.

  Going to Declan’s profile, the zero showing he doesn’t follow anyone stares back at me. It’s taunting me. Telling me that regardless of what I feel, this is nothing to him. It’s all about the views.

  That’s all it’ll ever be.

  I scroll past the first few videos. Clearly those are skateboarding tricks and not what I’m looking for. What I stop on is a video that has more views than he normally gets. His skateboarding ones are still over a million, but this one is over five million. Something is definitely working better for him.

  It starts out with him just looking at the camera, mouthing the lyrics to a song, but when the beat drops, everything goes dark and the light turns red. Declan is shirtless, looking back at the camera and smirking. He licks his lips and winks, and the video ends, immediately looping back to the beginning.

  Fuck. Okay, Jules had a point.

  I tell myself one more and scroll to the next one.

  He’s standing in front of a bathroom mirror, wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants. His hair is tied back in a bun and the glasses he’s wearing almost make him look like a prep schoolboy. But then the transition happens. The camera spins and he’s shirtless in gray sweatpants. His hand slides down the front of him, over his waistband, and the video loops back over just before he grabs his crotch.

  That one plays four times before I scroll to the next.

  What started as watching two videos, quickly turns to thirty-two, then sixty-two, and the next thing I know, it’s three in the morning. I should be tired. Hell, I was tired back before I let myself start watching Declan’s thirst traps. But I can’t fucking help it.

  Everything about those videos is addicting, and none of it did me any damn good. Because now, I want him even more than I did before.

  I force myself to close out of the app and send an SOS text to Jules. I'm sure she’s not awake right now. After all, it’s six a.m. there, and she is not a morning person. She doesn't respond, but it was worth a shot.

  Rolling over, I close my eyes and try to fall asleep—with thoughts of Declan’s abs and those gray sweatpants be damned.

  I let the video play, watching as he tells me to be a good girl and keep quiet. My heart starts to race as I press my thighs together. I just need something to relieve this pressure.

  My eyes fall shut, and I slide my hand down beneath my waistband. I’m almost to my sweet spot when a hand wraps around my wrist. I look up to see Declan hovering over me. He smirks, the same way he does in his videos, and pulls my hand out.

  “Let me,” he whispers.

  I grip the bedsheets as he starts to create magic with his fingers. His lips hover over mine, teasing me by not touching, just letting me feel his breath against my skin. I arch my hips in search of more pressure.

  More of his fingers.

  More anything.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks.

  I whimper in response.

  “Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it.”

  “Your mouth,” I whisper. “I want your mouth.”

  He licks his lips. “That’s my girl. I can’t wait to taste you.”

  Lifting my shirt, he kisses down my stomach, grazing his tongue against me as he goes. I wait anxiously as he lowers himself between my thighs. His gaze stays locked with mine as he blows softly on my pussy.

  “Please,” I beg. “I need it.”

  He chuckles, as if he has me right where he wants me, and finally gives me what I want. His tongue swirls around my clit while his fingers curl to hit the bundle of nerves inside me. I press my head back into the pillow as I arch my hips, grinding against his face.

  “Oh my God, yes,” I moan. “Just like that. Fuck, Declan.”

  He hums against me, sending shockwaves through my body as he sucks on my clit. “I love hearing you scream my name.”

  I reach down and lace my fingers in his hair. Using my grip, I hold him against me, and the groan that vibrates in the back of his throat tells me he’s enjoying it.

  My every nerve ending is coming alive as my core starts to tighten. I can feel the pressure building, getting ready to rip me to shreds and send me into sexed-out oblivion.

  Nothing has ever felt this good.

  And the need to come has never been this bad.

  But just as I’m about to go over the edge, he stops.

  I pick my head up, panting and frustrated. “Why’d you stop?”

  His brows furrow, but as he opens his mouth, all that comes out is Jules’s horrid rendition of "I Will Always Love You."

  What the fuck?

  My eyes jolt open, hearing my phone ringing on the nightstand beside me, and I repeat the question I asked in my dream.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I don’t know whether to be disappointed that she ruined my dream, right when it was getting to the good part, or freaked out that I had the dream at all. Honestly, I think it’s both.

  Yeah. Let’s go with both.

  Rolling over, I grab my phone and answer it. It takes a minute for me to wake up enough to bring it to my ear. My breathing is still a bit heavy from my dream and being startled awake. Jules is still waiting patiently.

  “Early,” I groan.

  She coos. “It’s nine in the morning there, princess. Though being as I got a text from you at three a.m. your time, I think it’s safe to say you had a long night. What’s with the SOS? Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yeah,” I muse sarcastically. “Everything is great. Don’t mind me. I’m just over here having fucking sex dreams about my fake boyfriend!”

  The call goes dead silent for a second before Jules breaks out in hysterical laughter. I press my face into my pillow and groan as her chuckling echoes through the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, still calming back down. “I’m sorry. That’s just the last thing I expected you to say.”

  “Yeah, well. Surprise.” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. “You know, this is all your fault.”

  “My fault? How is you dreaming about getting dicked down by Declan my fault?”

  “Because,” I whine. “It was your brilliant idea for me to watch some of his thirst traps. You practically forced them on me.”

  She snorts. “You’re telling me that a few videos were enough to—wait. How many did you watch exactly?”

  “All. Of. Them.” I squeeze my eyes shut but they shoot back open when images of Declan going down on me replay in my mind. “It was like fucking crack, and once I started, I couldn’t look away. His abs, and his face, with those gray sweatpants and that goddamn smirk? Ugh!”

  Jules chuckles, finding no sympathy for my predicament whatsoever. “Have fun pretending you’re not totally into him today.”

  “Okay, you can just fuck all the way off.”

  “Love you!” she calls just as I go to hang up. “Make good choices!”

  Rolling my eyes lovingly, I end the call and toss my phone beside me.

  It’s going to be a long day.

  HE KNOWS.

  He knows, and he’s fucking tormenting me with it.

  Maybe he heard me on the phone this morning. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s eavesdropped on a phone call. Or maybe I accidentally liked a thirst trap from eight months ago, making it totally obvious that I spent half the night drooling over every video that was even slightly sexual.

  Shit. I really hope that’s not the case.

  Jules would say that I’m being paranoid. That there’s no way he could possibly know. But every time he stands too close or lets his hand linger on my side for just a little too long, my nerve endings go haywire.

  “This,” Lux says, catching me off guard. She pushes a pale pink dress against me. “Yep, this is it. It’ll look perfect on you.”

  I raise a single brow at her. “What’s with you and constantly picking out pink for me?”

  She waves me off. “It’s your color. Just trust me.” Another dress catches her attention—a white one this time. “Ooh, take this one, too!”

  “Lux,” I deadpan.

  “Shoo,” she tells me, giving no room for disagreeing. “Go try them on.”

  Declan chuckles from where he stands behind me, and I roll my eyes before heading toward the dressing room. Our fingers stay interlaced as he lets himself be dragged along. The whole house decided to go out for lunch, and then of course Lux said we needed to go shopping before the club tonight—which means hours and hours of Declan’s hands on my skin as he acts like the perfect, doting boyfriend.

  “Do you need help?” he teases playfully. “I could come in with you.”

  I swallow harshly, doing everything I can to ignore the thoughts of last night’s dream. “Nice try, Casanova. You stay out here and keep us from a dressing room sex headline that neither of us wants.”

  “Dressing room sex, huh?” He leans against the wall. “Are you a secret exhibitionist, Superstar?”

  For the love of God, does the universe have no mercy?

  Before I can do anything that’ll give away every secret I’m trying to hide, I step into the stall and close the door behind me. Between the flirty little comments that he keeps making, and the way he kissed me on the sidewalk earlier while fans were recording from a distance, I’m losing my mind.

  Either he knows, or irony is a cruel bitch and the world likes to torment me.

  At least it can’t get any worse.

  21

  KAIA

  Spoiler alert: I was wrong.

  I was really fucking wrong, because as we stand in the middle of the club, with his chest pressed against my back and his hands on my hips, it’s worse. It’s so much worse.

  I’m sure my phone is going off like crazy, with constant texts from Jules as she watches videos of us dancing and delighting in the timing of it all. But what am I supposed to do? It’s not his fault I stalked his Swype all night and then dreamed of him doing magical things with his tongue.

  Okay, maybe it’s slightly his fault.

  It wouldn’t kill him to be a little less attractive.

  The music vibrates the floor as his touch takes over my senses. Thank fuck for the drinks I all but poured straight down my throat when we got here. The alcohol coursing through my bloodstream helps keep me from combusting on the spot as he pulls me closer into him.

  Truth is, I want him.

  Maybe it’s the effects of his thirst traps being burned into my brain. Or maybe I’m just sexually frustrated. But I fucking want him.

  I want his touch lingering long after it’s gone.

  I want my fingers laced in his hair and his mouth on the most sensitive parts of my body.

  I want to him to destroy me, make me feel him every time I move—for days.

  Problem is, I can’t have him.

  Not in private, and certainly not the way I want him.

  This thing between us is strictly obligational. An unwritten contract with unspoken rules, the first of which being that the truth stays hidden, and the second, that no lines are crossed.

  Letting him pound into me until all my mouth can form is slurred versions of his name? That’s definitely crossing a line.

  I run my fingers through my hair and lean my head against him. His face is right there. Right beside mine. All I’d have to do is turn my head and we’d be kissing.

  It’s not like PDA isn’t allowed. Hell, I could throw a rock and hit at least three couples with their tongues down each other’s throats. But I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.

  And yet, I can’t seem to control it. My head starts to turn as if it’s moving on its own accord, and I can see him moving in too.

  It’s the atmosphere.

  It’s the alcohol.

  It’s the energy in the place that has you feeling like you’d rather do what you want and deal with the aftermath later.

  His lips are centimeters from mine and only getting closer when Nate’s voice calls over the music.

  “I’ve got shots!”

  We both pull away as if we were burned, but Declan keeps one arm wrapped around me. He uses his other hand to reach for the shot when Nate pulls it away from him.

  “Not for you, baby,” he tells him. “You’re capable of getting your own. Call it karma for the time you told the waitress Kaia is underage.”

  I smirk, reminding myself of why he’s my favorite guy in the house and taking the shot in my hand. “What is it?”

  “A gummy bear shot.”

  I give it a sniff. Sweet yet strong. “What’s in it?”

  “A little bit of amazing and a lot a bit of magic,” he answers. “Cheers!”

  I clink my glass against his and throw the shot back, letting the taste coat my tongue. It goes down easy, and I make a mental note to let Nate order my shots from now on.

  “That was really good,” I tell him as I tip the glass back for the last remaining drop.

  Declan’s thumb rubs absentminded circles against my hip as he smiles at me. “What’s it taste like?”

  Red lights and sirens go off in my head as I think of what has to be the worst idea I’ve ever had. It’s crossing a line. The line I swore I would stay far behind. And yet, there’s a little voice of reason telling me it’s not. That I could brush it off as playing my part in our little fauxmance. With the amount of fan attention that we’ve all had here, someone is bound to be recording.

  As if he can read my mind, Declan smirks, and I lose all control. Using the hand that isn’t holding the shot glass, I pull him in by the back of his neck, and my lips press against his in a kiss that makes me go dizzy. For the first time, I open my mouth to let him in, going from soft kisses that are meant for everyone else’s eyes to whatever the fuck this is.

  Our tongues tangle together, and he hums as he tastes the gummy bear shot that lingers there. The grip he has on my waist tightens. He pulls me closer into him and deepens the kiss just a little more.

  It’s intense.

  It’s overwhelming.

  It’s fucking everything.

  The lack of air starts to become a problem, and we break the kiss to find Nate staring at us, looking like he doesn’t know what just happened.

  Well, same.

  Declan appears a little flustered as he tries to think of what to say. “You’re right. That is good,” he says, and I'm not sure he's just talking about the shot. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walks away, leaving just Nate and me as he heads over to the bar.

  “I feel like I just stepped into a live action porno,” Nate jokes.

  I roll my eyes. “It was just a kiss.”

  He snorts. “Just a kiss. Baby, I’m gay, and that even turned me on.”

  Pressing my thighs together, I desperately clench around nothing. It’s as if any mention of sex sends me right back into last night.

  It felt so real.

  I hate that I wish it was.

  At least then there would be something to scratch this itch. I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a club, overthinking my every move and wondering if sneaking back to the house to have a date with my vibrator is a bad idea.

  I look over at the bar to see Declan leaning against it, his chin-length hair pushed carelessly out of his face. He looks so calm and in his element. Meanwhile it’s taking everything in me not to combust on the spot.

  “Where are the bathrooms?” I ask Nate. “I need to freshen up.”

  He points toward the back corner of the club, but before I can walk away, he stops me. “Don’t think we won’t be talking about this later.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I tell him as I start to leave.

  His lips purse and his eyebrows raise. “You’re a worse liar than Stacy saying she’s never gotten plastic surgery, and that bitch has had more work done than a renovated Monte Carlo.”

 

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