“What?” I ask, taking another slice.

“Hayley will be back in a few days,” he says, shifting on his feet.

“Okay,” I say, because I don't know what else to say. I’m pretty sure he’s insinuating that he’s not going to be around anymore.

“You know that I hate your family, right?” he asks, staring straight at me.

“You don’t hate me, Devon,” I tell him, knowing that it’s true. Devon's been good to me; he hasn’t hurt me once since I've been here. He gets up and starts pacing, running his hands through his inky black hair.

God, he's beautiful.

“No, I don’t hate you, Leighton,” he finally says. “But you should hate me. You will hate me.”

I look down at my piece of pizza, no longer feeling hungry. I put the slice in the box and wipe my hand on the napkin.

“I know George wanted to kill me,” I say. “And you saved me.”

His silence is answer enough.

“Can we just pretend? Just for one night?” I ask him. He turns to me as if he's going to cut me down, until he sees the look on my face. His expression softens, and he gives me a slight nod. He sits down next to me and picks up a slice of pizza. I watch as his teeth tear off a bite, and think there is seriously something wrong with me to be turned on by him right now.

We finish eating, and sit on the couch and watch some random TV movie in silence. Devon sips his drink, and I watch his throat as he swallows. My gaze roams down further, to his toned chest peeking out of his black V-neck shirt.

I want him.

Truth be told, it’s not like I’ve had any action since I’ve been here, nor for a while before I was brought here. And my BOB is safely tucked away under my bed at home, gathering dust. I slowly remove my thin sweater, leaving nothing but a tank top underneath. Devon glances away from the TV to watch me. Lust consumes me, making me feel bold. Invincible.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice huskier than usual.

“You said we'd pretend,” I say softly, moving closer to him.

“Leighton, fuck, I don’t think . . . ” His eyes are at the hem of my top, where my hands are.

“Don’t think, Devon,” I say, standing up and pulling it over my head, dropping it aside. I walk backwards to my bed and undo the clasp of my bra, letting it dangle on my finger and then fall to the ground. I take my sweatpants off, leaving me in nothing but my panties. When he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell me to stop, I sit down on the bed and watch him.

The heat in Devon’s gaze, the intensity in his expression makes me feel like I’m the sexiest girl in the world. He stands up slowly, and walks over to me, his eyes still connected with mine. He gets down on his knees, so his face is almost level with mine. I watch as he takes his fill of me, a soft curse escaping his lips as his gaze touches my breasts.

“I don’t want you,” he says hoarsely, but there’s no fight left in his voice. My breathing hitches as I wait for him to finally touch me.

I don’t dare speak. Putting my palm on his cheek, I decide to make the first move since he won’t. Bringing his face closer to my body, I gasp when his tongue finally peeps out and slowly traces over one nipple, and I know that he’s decided to give in. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, and then running his teeth over it. I squirm under his touch, wanting more.

His mouth releases its torturous hold on my breast and trails wet kisses up my chest, my shoulder and my neck. By the time he reaches my mouth, I can feel how damp my panties are, and my thighs are trembling. He swipes his tongue across my lips, begging entrance. He kisses me hungrily, delving into my mouth, tasting me. He pushes me back onto the bed with the force of his body, grinding his hips into mine. I feel his erection pressing into me, and it gets me even more excited. Grasping my wrists in his hand, Devon lifts my hands above my head and presses them into the mattress. His other hand traces from my temple, over my cheek and jawline, and finally rests on my neck. Pulling his mouth away, he rests his forehead against mine, his breathing as heavy as my own.

“I don’t fucking want you,” he says desperately.

“Devon,” I gasp out when he starts slowly moving against me, our clothes the only barrier between us. He instantly jumps away from me, his expression closing off. He throws a disgusted glance my way as he stands up and takes two steps back, leaving me bare and vulnerable.

Then he turns his back on me and leaves.

seven

DEVON

I swirl the amber liquid in the glass then raise it to my lips and down it. I pour another and repeat. I should slow down, but the oblivion this promises is too tempting.

“I knew you'd be back for me,” she tells me. I give her a lazy grin as she approaches.

“Took you long enough. And I'm here for me.”

Soraya nods in understanding. “That's okay, I'll take care of you.”

I pat the arm of the huge leather chair and she walks over and sits down next to me. I put my arm around her waist and she leans into my touch as I down another glass of whiskey.

I don't like whiskey, and that's why I drink it. There's never a risk I'll get drunk if that's my drink of choice, though tonight I'm not pacing myself very well.

Any kind of alcohol is welcome right now.

After my fifth glass, I decide it's enough. I get up and so does Soraya, taking my hand and leading me away. I wobble slightly, but I don't feel drunk. Actually, I love the buzz it's given me. She pulls on my hand, making me realize I've stopped in my tracks, why, I don't know.

“Come on, silly.” Her voice is the sweetest thing right now. And looking her over from behind, with her long hair, even if it's a shade lighter than I’d like, and her petite body, she's perfect. She'll be perfect.

We reach the door to one of the back rooms and she starts searching in her purse for something. I slam her against the door, and drown her surprised squeal with a demanding kiss. My hands on her thighs start exploring up, up under her dress until I reach the edge of her panties.

She pulls away, breathing hard, and gives me a nervous giggle. “Let me find the key,” she says in a whisper, squaring her shoulders, and goes back to rummaging through her bag. Finding the key, she turns away from me to unlock the door. I run my fingers over the sides of her arms and bury my head at the nape of her neck, my touch making her shiver.

I ignore her perfume as much as I can. It's wrong.

Finally, finally she opens the door and we get inside, her hands already fisted in my hair and her lips on mine, her tongue coaxing my lips open. I vaguely register the lights are off, and it suits me. I prefer it that way.

Her mouth leaves mine so she can take my shirt off and I let her. As a matter of fact, I'd rather we're both naked, so I unzip her dress and let it fall at her feet. I look her over. She’s illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows as she unclasps her bra with one hand and lets it fall down, too, leaving her in only black panties.

Something about the way she does it really bothers me, but before I can think that over she leans in for another kiss and her hands go to my belt. I completely shut off as I hear the clang of metal, the sound of the zipper and then my pants are down around my ankles.

Soraya hesitantly reaches into my boxers with her hand, while slowly pulling them down with the other. She takes my already hard cock, and starts stroking me. She pulls away a little, so I lean in and kiss her, walking her backwards toward the bed.

“Say my name,” I mumble in between kisses.

“Wh . . . what?” she says through a moan when I move her panties to the side and feel how wet she is for me.

“Say. My. Name.”

“Oh, God.” Another moan, as I find her clit and start circling with my thumb and slide a finger inside of her, making her arch her back, asking for more. Her hand works faster on my cock, and I'm so ready to take her right here, right now, but I need to hear her say it.

“Just fucking say it.”

She looks at me through her thick lashes, confusion etching her forehead. “Devon?”

I freeze. My hand freezes. It's wrong. It's all wrong.

“Stop.”

She stops. “What's wrong?” I can hear the confusion in her voice.

“I'm sorry,” I tell her, trying to convey with my voice I really mean it. Because I am so goddamn sorry I almost used this girl for some twisted fantasy of mine.

“No, it's okay. Are you all right? Do you need a minute?”

“Give me a fucking century and it won't be enough,” I say, laughing, though it comes out strangled, my breathing still ragged because, honestly, I'm still hard as a fucking rock. She disappears and I pull my boxers up, adjusting myself so I'm at least comfortable.

The lights come on as I'm pulling my pants up. Amber's cheeks flame red, probably because she's still naked apart from her panties, and they're not covering up much. I turn around to give her privacy and hear the shuffling of clothes and her dress zipper.

I sit on the bed and hang my head in shame, wiping my hand on the sheet. The bed dips next to me and we sit in silence for a while. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” I say, groaning as my back hits the bed. “I'd rather just forget right now.”

She gives me a sheepish smile and gets up, walking across the room, and opens one of the drawers. She pulls out a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's and giggles, walking back to the bed and handing me the bottle. “We're not allowed this in the rooms.” She puts her index finger over her lips in that universal “shush” sign.