Page 19 of Wicked Dares
I remember moving to New York, but my apartment is miles away from the sea.
I shuffle and note that I’m on a bed that doesn’t feel like my new one. Granted, I’ve only slept on it for one night; that’s not long enough to get used to a bed.
My eyes open fully and meet long velvet drapes, blowing either side of an opened French window. Beyond it is a scene that must be a screensaver—golden sand and the bright blue sea.
The soft buttery sunlight indicates it must be quite early in the morning. Just after sunrise.
The salty breeze drifts through the room, stirring the curtains softly enough to feel dreamlike.
I move to sit, but the arm resting across my waist stops me.
In that instant, I remember what happened the night before.
I turn my head to the other side, and my breathing stalls when I find the man I spent the night with lying next to me.
Mr. Wicked.
He’s fast asleep, and naked, with the sheet barely covering him.
He’d called me a masterpiece. But his carved, tattooed body in the bright sunlight is devastating enough to redefine the word.
God.
We slept together. A lot. And sleep?Really, Piper? That wasn’t sleeping together or mere sex.
It wasfucking.Wild and reckless and nothing like the careful person I’ve spent the last few years trying to become.
The sweet ache between my thighs is a prominent reminder. So are the scandalous memories resurfacing in my mind.
The things I did with him…Lord.
My entire body flushes with heat from the ghost of his touch and relentless possession. When we arrived here, at his home, it was as if we’d lost our minds and gone wild. As soon as we stepped through the door, he was on me. My clothes were gone within seconds and he took me right there against the front door. From there, we came up here to his bedroom, where we stayed, continuing to devour each other.
Now I’m here, and am experiencing that displaced feeling again sitting in my stomach like a boulder sinking in acid.
What should I do now?
Leave.That’s the obvious answer because really, I can’t stay.
Men like Mr. Wicked don’t expect you to stay after a one-nighter. I couldn’t imagine staying, either. Now that the sexual haze is gone, I’d just look clingy. Then he’d have the awkward task of getting rid of me. Though I doubt that would be awkward for him. It’s me who will feel awkward.
A man like him would have women leaving his bed all the time.
So… I should count myself fortunate to have woken up before him and just… go.
I look at him, though, and can’t move. Not yet.
Leaving suddenly feels harder than it should.
It’s dawned on me that the moment I leave, the game will be over. That illusion I created of a safe space to seize the moment will be gone.
No more wicked dares.
In reality, as much as I’d love to just step back into the shoes of the girl I used to be, I know I can’t. It’s not that simple. That’s what happens when you change, whether for better or worse: you can never go back without the scars that changed you.
It was good to live for one night, though. I can take that with me. Even if reality is waiting for me the second I walk out that door.
I allow myself a few moments to admire my handsome stranger.
