“Hey, sexy!” One of the guys who lived in the house—I truly had no idea how many did—pulled a girl in a thigh-length sweater and printed leggings in for a hug, blocking my view. “Long time since I’ve seen you. Want to join in the next round?”
I circled around the pool table that the boys kept in place of a dining room table, squinting around people until I caught sight of Weston and his catch of the night. When I spotted them again, it was just in time. They were near the staircase and he was leaning in to whisper something into the redhead’s ear. She responded with a giggle and then a nod.
This was it. The Exit. The moment the two of them would slip away to take things to The Next Level. The part that I spent the rest of the week imagining in fine detail—only, in my imagination, I was the girl, and very often, I accompanied the daydreaming with my hand beneath my panties.
Seriously, maybe I just needed to get laid.
I took another swallow of my not-so-delightful craft beer and cringed. Usually when Weston took off with his hook-up for the night, I finished up my drink and headed home. He would take her upstairs to his room now. At least, I guessed that’s where his room was. The upper level was off-limits, the door to the stairway kept locked, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have ever intruded on their private space.
But this time when Weston and his catch went upstairs, he didn’t shut the door tightly behind him. From across the room, my eyes focused in on the latch bolt sticking out from the doorframe, and something came over me. Something unexplainable. Because one minute I was standing against the wall like always and the next I was creeping in the shadows up the dark staircase to the top floor of The Keep.
The stairs were quiet and empty, and at the landing, I paused. The lights were off everywhere on the top floor, and it took a moment for my eyes to focus. There seemed to be a bathroom straight in front of me. To my right was a hallway, to my left was a bedroom with a door slightly ajar. Giggles drifted from the bedroom, and I tiptoed in that direction, cursing at myself every step of the way. What the fuck was I even doing? Was I planning to spy while Weston banged some other girl? Did I want him to suddenly notice me at the door and invite me in instead? Did I want him to invite me to join?
Yeah, this was messed up.
I nearly turned around.
I should have turned around.
But then Nicorette inhaled sharply and I had to know. Had to see.
I crept closer, peeked inside and nearly jumped when I saw the couple directly in front of me in a lip-locked frenzy. Then I realized that I was actually looking at a reflection in a wall-sized mirror. They were on the other side of the bed and the moon was shining in through the window illuminating the display.
And, oh my god, was it hot.
The redhead had already lost her shirt and her bra, and Weston was bent over her, suckling on one breast, kissing her pointed nipple while squeezing her other breast.
Nikita threw her head back and moaned. Unconsciously, I plumped my own breast over my sweater, and nearly gasped when I found my nipple sensitive and erect. I had to bite my lip to keep from making any noise. Had to cross my ankles to ease the throbbing between my legs.
I watched as Weston peeled off his shirt, the angle giving me a view of his beautiful, muscular back. He was on the rowing team. Of course. So preppy. So rich boy. But those muscles… God bless the rowing team.
And now he was undoing his jeans. And she was drawing out his cock. I could feel my eyes widen, trying to get a better look at his dick. I dared to lean in a little farther. Still, all I could make out was a dark shadow in the grip of the redhead’s little palm as she stroked him up and down.
“Yeah, Nicky, just like that.” The low rumble in Weston’s voice made my knees buckle. I could just hear him over the thump-thump of the bass drifting up from downstairs.
“It’s Nichelle,” she corrected. Right! That’s what it was.
“Yeah, Nichelle.” He pulled her head back up so he could devour her mouth. He kissed her for a few minutes, greedily, before pulling away and heading out of the reflection—toward me.
I cowered in the corner where the hinge met the frame, certain I was about to be discovered. But all Weston did was shut the door.
I leaned my back against the closed door and let out a deep breath.
Because what the actual fuck?
I could have gotten caught. I could have gotten kicked out of The Keep forever. I could have lost any respect Weston might have ever had for me before even earning it.
And why the hell was I so into this guy anyway? I didn’t even know him! I needed to get my head in the right place. Needed to remember why my father put in all those years with the furniture store and why my mother’s life insurance money was saved and put away. It was so I could go to the school of my dreams. Not so that I could spend all my time daydreaming over a pretty-faced playboy.
But what a pretty face he had.
God, I was in trouble.
“He’s never going to go for you,” a voice came out of the dark in front of me. “Not while you’re a virgin.”
I squinted, and when I looked closer, I saw there was another bedroom at the end of the hall with the door wide open, and though I couldn’t quite make out the figure, I could see there was someone sitting in an armchair, smoking a cigarette. Or a cigar maybe.
I took a step forward. Surely he wasn’t talking to me, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. “Excuse me?”
“Weston never goes for virgins. It’s one of his rules.”
Heat rushed up my neck and flooded my cheeks. “Uh…”
“You’re offended.”
“Yes. I’m offended.” And embarrassed. How long had this guy been watching me? It was pretty safe to assume that he’d seen me spying on Weston. Which was just…mortifying. Thank goodness it was too dark for him to see my face.
“Care to explain?”
I took another step forward. Then several more. Steps I should have taken down the stairs while I was still an anonymous girl in the dark.
But there was something about being watched privately by someone else that made me feel a kinship that I hadn’t felt before. All that time I’d spent watching Weston, it was as though I’d been carrying a secret. And the first person to discover it had found it out by secretly watching me.
Or maybe that was just an excuse and I was just lonely. Or drunk. Or stupid.
“Well.” I paused at the doorway of his room. “A of all, you can’t possibly know what your roommate is and isn’t into. And B of all, the status of my virginity is not something you can just presume.”
He took a puff of his cigar—not a cigarette, it turned out—and the smoke filled the room with a sweet woody scent that reminded me of fireplaces and old libraries. “I beg to disagree. To both.”
I huffed audibly. Because what else could I say to something as cocky as that?
Actually, plenty.