Sugar Page 6

  There was only one memory I couldn’t erase. Margaux and Shane, my ex-best friend. They were married now. She finally got the spring wedding she’d always dreamed of. Who the fuck knew who Shane’s best man was? We always assumed we’d be up there with each other. But I also assumed he would never be the sort of guy to stab me in the back. Lesson learned.

  And why was I still thinking of this?

  After a quick shower, I shoved all thoughts of my past away and hit the sac. I needed to focus on the future, not the past.

  Even if Laurel was right, and I was ready to move on and start dating again, I highly doubted Avery was the girl. Something about her struck me as unattainable, purposely out of reach. She didn’t seem like the dating type. Or maybe she was still playing the field. She was definitely a few years younger, so that made sense.

  The fact that she didn't seem into anything serious worked to my advantage. We could have something casual and fun. No need for things to get awkward.

  And despite her objections, there was something there, something that made her breathing shift in my presence and her cheeks flush. We had chemistry, and I’d make sure she couldn’t ignore it.

  We were neighbors. There were certain neighborly rules I could use to my advantage. Even if I had to borrow a cup of sugar to get her to open that door, I’d do it. And eventually, she’d open up as well.

  My sister was wrong. I could do casual. Casual was fun. The hunt was fun. And Avery was a competitor.

  Staring at my ceiling, I imagined all the ways I could have her. And as I closed my eyes, my sleepy brain filled with visions of Avery.

  The longer I pictured her, the easier it became to note subtle details I’d overlooked, such as the cheap jewelry. The few times I’d spotted her began to add up. Was she a student? Students didn’t live in this section of the city, at least not in this building.

  Her age, I decided, had to be around twenty-two, so I likely had her beat in life experience. Remembering her vulnerable eyes, my fantasy shifted from seducing her to simply comforting her.

  These men were way too old for her. She should know better. I imagined kissing her and holding her, and never once would she look to me with such uncertainty because I had nothing but decent intentions. Okay, I had filthy intentions, but I’d make sure she had fun too. With all those other men, there didn’t seem to be any balance. The scales were tipped in their favor, and I wasn’t sure how, but with me, Avery would understand how dating could be fun.

  10

  Avery

  “Would you like insurance?”

  “Yes, on all six, please.” The limit for postal insurance was four hundred dollars, so I was shipping my mother six tightly taped boxes of cold, hard-earned cash. All for the price of letting some fat pig breathe into my ear at an uptown bar and stare down my cleavage while taking faceless pictures of my body for four hours.

  It was worth it. I had to keep telling myself that until I believed it to be true. But my dignity took a hit this week no amount of money could compensate. It wasn’t about what others saw, but what I endured privately. I might have escaped guilt, proving I’d do more than most women would, but I’d never actually sell my body for sex. But shame was a sticky thing.

  The following night I had a gala with Micah scheduled. My dress was recycled couture, and my jewels were the same paste garbage I always wore, but they looked excellent. I wore my hair slicked into a smart ponytail, and my makeup was extreme, giving me the devastating look of a woman on the catwalk in Milan.

  Not wanting any drama, I decided to wait in the lobby for Micah to arrive, but Noah caught me locking up, and there was something different about the way he watched me.

  His eyes were too watchful, his usual nonchalance gone. His focus unapologetically followed my every move and I hated it. I wanted the old Noah stare back, but I knew our last encounter spoiled any chance of that happening.

  “Another appointment?”

  My molars locked, my mood shifting from regretful to downright pissed. “Why don’t we do each other a favor and keep to our own sides of the building?”

  Hands deep in his suit pockets, he held my gaze and dramatically stepped into my half of the hallway. Then he took another step. And another until he had me backed against my door.

  I didn’t understand his game. Did he actually think this sort of taunting would get me into bed with him?

  My chin tipped up to hold his stare. “If this is flirting, it’s not working. Excuse me, I have an appointment.”

  He glanced at my dress. “You’re a busy girl, Avery.”

  And you’re a dick. “Excuse—”

  “Why a different date every night?” Something flashed in his eyes. Beneath the purposeful intimidation hid a spark of curiosity and possibly a hint of jealousy. “Let’s call it what it is. You’re not off to a business meeting dressed like that.”

  I didn’t have time for this—whatever it was.

  His lashes lowered as his gaze traveled down the front of my dress, held at my nails, my purse, and lifted to the rhinestone necklace at my throat and then to my glossy lips leaving me feeling all too exposed.

  Something in his stare shook my confidence, and I couldn’t afford to be off my game tonight. What did he see when he looked at me? Why did I care? What was this weird hold he had over me, this instant jumble of uncertainty I suffered every time I entered his presence?

  It seemed a contradicting sensation that taunted me and tempted me. His eyes, missing nothing, seemed to silently call to me as if promising the truth might set me free. I had the strangest sense that I could tell him secrets and he’d listen without judgment, which either made him incredibly transparent or me a complete idiot.

  But what if this teasing persona was merely an act meant to frustrate me enough to let him in? Playground taunting to get a peek up the new girl's dress...

  I shook my head, almost believing it. It used to be my nature to believe everyone hid a little good inside, but I wasn’t that girl anymore. He might be trying to get into my pants, but he was just my nosey neighbor. He wasn’t my friend.

  I hardened my stare. “Back off.”

  The side of his mouth quirked. “I think you like me this close.”

  “I think you’re delusional.”

  My heart rattled behind my ribs as my body pressed against the support of the door. What the hell was wrong with me? He was cornering me, goading me, and I was allowing it—maybe even enjoying it on some twisted level.

  Enough.

  I lifted my chin, hiding any sense that he might be intimidating me. “One of these days you’re going to push your luck with me, and it won’t end well for you.”

  “Oh, I disagree.”

  The clear vision of my hand slapping across his beautiful face flashed through my mind, and my body warmed, liquid heat pulling slowly through my veins the way it absolutely shouldn’t. Oh, I’d love to hurt him just enough to prove a point.

  “Don’t pretend to be indifferent to me, Avery. You’re getting aroused. I can see it in the way your breath just quickened, and your cheeks are pinker than usual. Your eyes are darker, too, and your tits are pressing so hard against your dress my fingers are itching to touch them. A hundred bucks say your panties are wet.”

  “I think you have a gambling problem.”

  “I think you should admit I turn you on.”

  I might have been slightly aroused, but he’d be whimpering if he saw into my head, saw the ways I imagined punishing him for being such a colossal shithead.

  He had no clue what really turned me on. “Not for the reason you think.”

  His half smile stretched into an even grin, and he leaned closer. “No?”

  “No,” I rasped.

  I could see it so clearly, his body stretched beneath mine in all its glory. Taut muscle and sinew wearing a sheen of sweat as I teased him into a needy frenzy. His body pulsing with desire while I denied him every pleasure and inflicted little nips of pain.

  I’d
track my nails down his chest, leaving slightly raised trails as he arched into my touch. My breath would tease his cock, but I wouldn’t touch him. Torment, blow, scrape… He’d beg so prettily. I bet I could make him come without ever using more than my words.

  Then, when he was just about to cry out, I’d grip him hard enough to force it back. He’d jerk at the repudiation, fight it, try to hide the struggle, and fail. And then he’d beg for forgiveness, accepting I was the one in total control.

  My gaze lifted to his mouth, and I fought the urge to drag my tongue over his lips. I wanted to wrench his head back, my fist gripping tightly in his beautiful hair. If he was a good boy, I might let him fuck me, but my way, on my terms.

  He’d do everything I commanded and make me come as many times as I wanted. He’d worship me, beg for me, and never once think he could outmaneuver me like he thought he was doing now.

  “You don’t know a thing about me, Noah, and I doubt you have the patience or stamina to figure me out.”

  “All I need is one night. Let me take you out, prove I’m better than the rest.”

  “So persistent.”

  “Always, especially when I see something I want.”

  No mention of what I might want. God, he was selfish. Yet, I humored him anyway. “And what is it you want?”

  He lifted a brow. “Are we being honest?”

  I held his stare, unflinching. “Why not?”

  “Fine. I want to strip you naked and lick every gorgeous curve of your body. I want to hold you by your hair as you swallow my cock. And when your shoulders tense and your eyes water, I want you to look up at me with that determined look I see now, and I want you to show me you can handle every last inch of me. I want to fuck your tits, your cunt, and your tight little asshole. I want to make it so good for you, there’s never a doubt in your mind that I’m the best you’ll ever have. And then, I want to sleep with you, naked and soft, worn out from everything I did to you, everything you begged me to do. Then we’ll wake up and do it all over again until my skin smells like yours and you’re wearing a rosy glow of whisker burn, come, and me.”

  Keeping my expression blank, I glanced toward the elevator as if the political correctness police were going to storm the hall at any second after that little speech. My breath shook as it filled my lungs. No one had ever said anything so graphic and arrogant to me. I wanted to smile at his boldness, then punish him.

  It was not only improbable, it was also the exact opposite of what I liked, so why the hell was I breathing so fast? He was rattling me.

  This game had to end. I moved my mouth to speak, but my voice had dried up. Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders and looked him directly in the eye, whittling all my excuses down to the sharpest point.

  It was time he understood how impossible his fantasies were. “Poor Noah. You can’t afford me.”

  His brow furrowed. “Afford you?”

  His glance took another perusal of my attire, and he cocked his head as if something occurred to him. I endured his inspection, awaiting and dreading the moment the light bulb flickered on. As a private person, my career choices had always been personal. After my mother’s latest episode, I hardly felt like shouting my profession details from the rooftops.

  His posture relaxed, and his hands burrowed back in his pockets, a knowing smirk now teasing his lips. “I think you underestimate the size of my … bank account.”

  An unexpected ache formed in my chest. On some level, he comprehended my confession when I’d hoped his first response would be disbelief or denial. But he seemed to understand what I’d admitted and hadn’t batted an eye.

  His acceptance that I came with a rather large price tag withered something inside of me. My confidence staggered and my pride flinched. His cocky assumption that he would have me—no matter the price—released an unpredicted pain in my chest I wasn’t prepared to process. He didn’t realize some things were not for sale, but damn the assumption in his eyes for hurting me so.

  I guess I looked like a whore to him. It shouldn’t matter how he saw me. Hiding my disappointment, I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my emotions out of the way.

  Keep it light… “I’m pretty sure your account is much smaller than what I’m used to.” If he wanted to treat me like an object, I’d treat him like the chauvinist dickhead I believed him to be.

  He arched a brow. “Name your price.”

  Why did this keep backfiring on me? Time to be firm. “You’ll never be my client.”

  “Is that what you call them?”

  I shrugged, trying to situate my indifference and gracefully escape the conversation in one piece. But something was off, and I had about as much grace as Cinderella’s sisters trying to casually slip into a glass slipper.

  Irritated that he’d knocked me off balance so easily, my words became terse. “It’s business. And I’m the one with the final say. Now, if you’ll get out of my way—”

  “Wait.” He frowned and caught my arm. “Are you serious? Are you…”

  My breath held. Thank God he didn’t finish his question. My self-esteem might not survive the hit today. We needed to wrap this up, and I couldn’t afford to waste time explaining my life to him.

  “I’m not a prostitute, jerk. Sex isn’t on the table. That’s not what I do. I really have to go.”

  His brow knit as uncertainty flashed in his glacial stare. While my job was uncommon, living as a sugar baby remained a very real business—not to be confused with prostitution. Every client needed to fully understand that.

  Although Noah would never be my client. Never.

  “Avery…” His focus pulled from my body for a split second, but when it returned, his eyes were more challenging than ever. “I’m not looking to be your client or whatever you call it.”

  His voice sounded so genuine I instantly relaxed and then he said, “But I’m also not giving up. And trust me, I never have to pay a woman for her time.”

  “I don’t have time for charity cases, Noah.”

  He laughed. “Avery, you misunderstand. I’ll be the one doing you a favor. Maybe one good, hard fuck would get you out of this bad mood you’ve been in since we met.”

  My lips twitched, but I hid a smile. As great as fucking Noah would probably be, it was a can of worms I couldn’t open. My little thrill died as fast as a lone breeze on a still day.

  Maybe he thought I was bluffing about actually coming with a price tag. That was better than him not questioning the possibility. But the truth remained, I needed to ruin whatever this was for my own good.

  “That’s not going to happen,” I said, priding myself for not allowing my voice to waver. “I told you how it works. You’re not listening—”

  “Oh, I heard you. You want me to believe they pay to play. Maybe they do, but I don’t. I’m not buying what you’re selling, so stop with the act. I see you lugging your little backpack up and down the hall as you scurry off to class, looking like an average twenty-something trying to make a future for herself. This…” He brushed a finger over my fake diamond bracelet. “This isn’t you. It’s an act, and I bet you play the part damn well. But you aren’t going to play with me, Avery—not in that way. Maybe you’d smile a little easier if you dated someone for more than their wallet.”

  “Maybe I’m only miserable around you.”

  “If that’s what you have to tell yourself.”

  I wanted to growl and shove him out of my way. “You know what? You don’t know a thing about me or the men I go out with.”

  He didn’t have to live a secret life to afford his home. He was almost too upfront, too raw and unfiltered.

  He thought my appearance was an act. But he didn’t realize all of it was an act. Avery Johansson wasn’t a college student living a few miles from home. She didn’t exist before I arrived.

  “So let me get to know you.”

  Noah was the sort of man who wouldn’t rest until he had a puzzle mastered, and I wasn’t going to be a
game he played. “No.”

  “Why not? Scared?”

  I’d never admit that to him. Avery Dean Mudd might have earned a scholarship, but Avery Johansson had been paying her tuition since. The girl I left behind was a piece of trash, and the woman I became didn’t know any more about social graces than she could learn online and by emulating others. It was enough to fool the men I spent a few hours with at a time. I wasn’t sure if I could fool Noah.

  “I said no.”

  The elevator pinged and my focus pulled to the dial climbing toward our floor. Micah. Time to squelch his little crush once and for all and focus on what mattered, what kept my apartment warm, and my name on the enrollment list.

  “Here’s all you need to know. In five seconds, that elevator’s going to open, and a man’s going to step out. He’s sixteen years older than me. He’s going to open doors for me and take me to a fancy party, and I’m going to let him because he pays my rent every month so I can live in this gorgeous building that’s probably a dump compared to where you grew up. He bought my clothes and my jewelry—”

  “The jewelry’s fake. He’s ripping you off.”

  “I know it’s fake,” I hissed. “But I paid for it with his money. I’d rather keep as much as I can for tuition and other bills. My point is, this is who I am, whether you accept it or not. This is how I afford to live here. If you saw where I came from, you’d run. Trust me, Noah, you don’t know me, and if you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  The elevator pinged, and Noah took a step back just as the doors parted. Micah’s familiar leather soled footfalls broke the silence.

  Micah’s eyes held nothing but polite patience. “Avery?”

  I blinked away from Noah and gave Micah a shaky smile. “I’m ready.”

  His assessing gaze traveled to my neighbor and back to me. He approached and held out an arm. Dressed in black tie as he was, he should’ve easily been the most intimidating person in the hall, but Noah didn’t flinch. Micah gave him a stiff nod and escorted me toward the elevator.