Page 85 of Wicked Player
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When I get home, Cassie is surprised to see me.
“What are you doing here?” are the first words out of her mouth. “You look like shit. Shouldn’t Colton be balls deep in you about now?”
I shake my head. Cassie can be so crude sometimes. I usually laugh at her antics, but I’m not in the mood tonight. “I had a change of heart,” I tell her as I slip off my heels.
She sits down at the table. “What happened?”
I know I’m not getting out of this, so I decide to just go along with it and tell her what happened. “It was all going really well. We had a really nice dinner, had a swim, and watchedAmerican Beauty.” I don’t tell her about the sex. “Thanks by the way for telling him what I like.”
“No worries.”
“He even got me cozy socks,” I digress. The sex meant nothing, I remind myself. Stupid socks. They were just the first step in his plan of seduction. I know that now. I’m so on to him. “Anyway, it was going really well until he gave me a tour of the house, and brought me to the red room.”
Cassie perks up like a jack-in-the-box. “Ooooh… what was it like? Was it scary?”
I smile. “No, not really… sorta… kinda.”
She smiles. “Well, which one is it, girl?”
“There were no whips and chains or anything like that,” I explain. “Just a cage bed.”
“A cage bed?”
“Yeah… like a four poster bed, but it’s also a cage.”
Her eyes grow wide. “That sounds pretty badass.”
“I don’t think Colton is into all that BDSM stuff at all,” I go on. “It was just a beautiful sexy room, not really red. The bed duvet was red, and one accent wall…”
“So, what was the problem then?” she asks, clearly confused.
“It was just…” My words trail off. “I just looked at the four poster cage bed, and I realized that dozens of women had already been there, in that exact situation. And that he’d probably whispered the same sweet nothings in their ears, and I just lost it.”
She sighs. “Oh, Clara… you’re just not cut out for a man like him. You can’t do the whole ‘casual sex’ thing. It’s not in your make-up. And that’s why it could probably never work between you two.”
Her words cut, because I know she’s right. I’m not angry because I know she’s just looking out for me. The sorrowful expression on her face tells me she really feels bad for me.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay.” I slump down at the table, across from her. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should have never encouraged you to go to one of his parties,” she says. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay,” I say again. “It’s all my fault. I let him get close to me, knowing exactly what type of man he is.”
She bites her lip, without words.
“You still want to crash here?” I ask her. “You’re welcome to. Thanks so much for babysitting tonight. You’re the best.”
She smiles. “What are best friends for? He was great, as always. Seriously, you have a great kid there.”
“So, you staying?” I ask, hoping she’ll say yes because I need the emotional support, and she makes a mean crêpe. An old French chef boyfriend showed her how.
She smiles wide. “You bet.”
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