𝓣𝓦𝓘𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓓 𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔

(⁠.⁠⁠❛⁠⁠ᴗ⁠⁠❛⁠.⁠) 2

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓

We should takethis somewhere more…private.” The blonde trailed her fingers down my arm, her hazel eyes bright with invitation as she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. “Or not. Whatever you’re into.”

My lips curved—not enough to classify as a smile, but enough to broadcast my thoughts. You can’t handle what I’m into.

Despite her short, tight dress and suggestive words, she looked like the type who expected sweet nothings and lovemaking in bed.

I didn’t do sweet nothings or lovemaking.

I fucked a certain way, and only a specific type of woman was into that shit. Not hardcore BDSM, but not soft. No kissing, no face-to-face contact. Women agreed, then tried to change it up halfway through, after which I’d stop and show them the door. I have no tolerance for people who can’t keep to a simple agreement.

That was why I stuck to a roster of familiar rotating names when I needed a release; both sides knew what to expect.

The blonde was not making it onto that roster.

“Not tonight.” I swirled the ice in my glass. “It’s my friend’s farewell party.”

She followed my gaze toward Josh, who was basking in female attention of his own. He sprawled on the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture after he’d packed the house up in anticipation of his year abroad, and grinned while three women fawned over him. He’d always been the charming one. While I put people on edge, he put them at ease, and his approach toward the fairer sex was the opposite of mine. The more, the merrier, according to Josh. He’d probably fucked half the D.C. metro area’s female population by now.

“He can join too.” The blonde edged closer until her tits grazed my arm. “I don’t mind.”

“Same.” Her friend, a petite brunette who had been quiet up till now but who’d eyed me like I was a juicy steak since I walked in the door, piped up. “Lyss and I do everything together.”

The insinuation couldn’t have been clearer had she tattooed it across her exposed cleavage.

Most guys would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but I was already bored with the conversation. Nothing turned me off more than desperation, which reeked stronger than their perfume.

I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I scanned the room for something more interesting to hold my attention. If it were a party for anyone else but Josh, I would’ve skipped it. Between my job as COO of The Archer Group and my…side project, I had enough on my plate without attending pointless social gatherings. But Josh was my best friend—one of the few people whose company I could stand for more than an hour at a time—and he was leaving Monday for his gap year as a medical volunteer in Central America. So here I was, pretending like I actually wanted to be here.

A silvery laugh pealed through the air, drawing my eyes toward the source.

Ava.Of course.

Josh’s little sister was so sweet and sunshiney all the time, I half-expected flowers to sprout on the ground wherever she walked and a coterie of singing woodland animals to trail behind her while she traipsed through meadows or whatever girls like her did.

She stood in the corner with her friends, her face bright with animation as she laughed at something one of them said. I wondered if it was a real laugh or a fake laugh. Most laughs—hell, most people—were fake. They woke up every morning and put on a mask according to what they wanted that day and who they wanted the world to see. They smiled at people they hated, laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, and kissed the asses of those they secretly hoped to dethrone.