Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Still, I feel like a heel because I upset her. And because I truly do like her.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and get out of the pool. I make my way toward the women’s locker room. “Heather!” I call out again.
No response.
I knock on the door. “Come on. Come out. Please. Let me explain.”
But explain what? I don’t even remember saying Emily’s name. I knew I was with Heather. What the hell is wrong with me?
A moment later, Heather emerges, a robe wrapped around her, and her hair neatly combed back. She pushes me out of the way.
“Come on, baby,” I say.
She turns, her hair whipping around and spraying me with water droplets. “Baby? Seriously?”
“We’ve had some good times,” I say. “Some really good times. You and June have had good times. And I’m pretty sure I glimpsed you working out with River the other day.”
She rolls her eyes. “Get over yourself. This isn’t about who you’ve fucked, Sebastian. It’s about knowing who you’re fucking. It’s not like I mistook June for you when she was eating me out.”
“Heather…”
“Fuck off.” The robe slides over her shoulder, and her viper tattoo peeks out.
She’s so sexy. So beautiful.
All the women are, but it’s like comparing apples to oranges. Heather is Heather. She’s not Emily, and I’d never want her to be.
I catch up to her before she leaves the pool area and grab her from behind. I kiss the soft skin of her shoulder, sliding my tongue over the viper’s head.
“You’re a goddess,” I whisper, “a goddess with a viper on your shoulder and secrets in your smile. And it’s killing me that I hurt you.”
She turns, wrangling out of my grasp, and meets my gaze. “Hurt? Are you on drugs? I’m not hurt, Sebastian. I’m pissed. Angry. What woman wouldn’t be?”
I turn her around again and rip the robe off her. It falls on the ground in a blue satin puddle. I lick the viper once more.
“Be angry, then,” I whisper against her flesh. “Let out the rage, Heather. Be that viper ready to strike.”
She huffs and turns around again, facing me. “You don’t have any idea who I am.”
“I’d like to,” I say honestly.
She studies me, dark-blue eyes sharp but glassy. She presses her lips into a thin line.
I know the look.
She’s trying not to feel this…whatever this is between us.
“You like what I let you see,” she says. “The cool girl. The fantasy with good hair and sharp comebacks. The woman who challenges you in bed. But you don’t know me.”
“I’d like to.”
“I don’t let anyone get that close,” she says.
I step closer. “Try me.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “No. You think you want the truth, but people always say that right before they flinch. Right before they leave.”
“I’m not people.”
“No,” she agrees quietly. “You’re dangerous.”
I blink. “Me?”
She nods. “Because I could almost believe you. In fact…”
“In fact what?” I reach out, fingers grazing her wrist, not to hold her. Just to touch. Just to feel something real.
She pushes my hand away. “In fact, if you hadn’t said someone else’s name, I might have believed you.” She sighs. “You did me a favor. I should be thanking you.”
“Heather,” I say. “Let me earn your trust. Show me what hides under that viper’s smile.”
She stares at me for what seems like an eternity.
Then—barely audible— “Some secrets don’t get told. They just…stay. Sink in. Change you.”
I nod slowly. “So let it be on your terms.”
She tilts her head. “Even if it destroys the fantasy?”
I grin. “Heather, I’m a rock star. I don’t live for fantasies. I live for what burns.”
She narrows her gaze. “What burns? You have no idea what kind of fire you’re igniting.”
Then she turns and walks out the door and toward the mansion.
EPISODE 231
PIECES OF ME
Heather
Ten Years Earlier…
The tattoo on my shoulder is new and still sore.
A viper, ready to strike.
That’s what I am.
I’ll never tell anyone what the tattoo signifies. Not even the people who swear they won’t leave if I do.
Because they always do.
I already survived one man who promised to protect me.
I don’t need to survive another.
Outside, the air is damp and quiet. Not cold but chilled enough to raise goosebumps along my arms. I inhale deeply. For the first time in years, I don’t taste fear.
The duffel bag is light on my shoulder. It holds the bare minimum—cash, burner phone, a change of clothes, and the fake ID in a name no one has ever called me before.
The name doesn’t matter. Not yet. What matters is that it’s not his name. Not the one I was born to.
The house disappears behind me, swallowed up by the darkness. The gravel crunches beneath my sneakers, loud in the stillness, but it doesn’t matter. The nearest neighbor is half a mile down the road, and he never had visitors. Not unless he called someone to come clean up his mess.