Читать книгу Boys and Toys - Cara Lockwood, Cara Lockwood - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Liv woke Monday morning feeling a deep sense of dread. She’d managed to avoid thinking about Porter for most of Sunday, running from one errand to another, but now she had no distractions. Now all she could do was relive that kiss over and over again. She’d never felt one so...earth-shaking. Was that how it was supposed to be? Was it just because she’d had so few kisses? That single kiss was hotter than most of the sex she’d had in her life.

She felt herself tingle with the memory.

She sighed. If a single kiss was so amazing, what would a sex toy party for one be like, she wondered.

Not that she could allow that to happen.

If she did, he would probably find out—first hand—just how inexperienced she was.

She knew what guys expected from a sex hostess. It was exactly what Kincaid had wanted when she’d let slip that was what she did for a living. When he’d convinced her to come back to his place, he’d been disappointed when she hadn’t pulled all means of entertainment out of her tiny black clutch.

She still remembered how indifferent he looked as he showed her the door afterward, as if he’d been disappointed by her, by the whole experience. A week later, she’d seen him kissing another girl at a neighborhood bar. She shouldn’t have been upset by it, but she was. Since then, she’d become an expert at keeping men at arm’s length.

She worried Porter would be just like him. Hot and heavy until he found out she didn’t know what she was doing. He’d find her out. Just like Kincaid had.

“He wants what?” Liv’s roommate, Jordan, said after Liv had told her everything. Jordan had just finished the early-morning shift as a barista, and she smelled strongly of espresso as she brushed out her ponytail in the bathroom mirror. She checked out her new neck tattoo, a butterfly, before turning back to Liv. “You know he’s just after sex. Why else would he ask for a private party?”

“Yeah, I know. But I have half a mind to give it to him,” Liv said, scooting past her part-time punk roommate into the bathroom to grab her toothbrush. Together, they shared the small apartment not far from North Avenue and Damen, in the heart of Wicker Park. It was the first one they’d moved into after college graduation, back when Liv thought her dream marketing job would fall into her lap and Jordan was sure she’d land a record deal for her garage band. Three years later, both dreams were still on hold.

It was a miracle her parents even let her room with Jordan. Somehow, she’d managed to slip past their defenses, mostly because she was a good egg, despite the tattoos. It had been Jordan who’d skipped a final so she could take Liv to student health when she’d come down with a very late and very serious case of chicken pox junior year. Her parents loved Jordan for it and were able to overlook the fact she played drums in a rock band.

Jordan brushed out her short blond hair and barked a laugh. “I told you your dry spell was going on too long. This is what happens when girls don’t get laid. They get blackmailed.”

“He didn’t blackmail me!” Liv exclaimed.

“Didn’t he?” Jordan quirked an eyebrow. “He says he won’t tell your dad and then he asks for a party. Like they’re not connected?”

Liv’s mind whirled. “They’re not. He wouldn’t do something like that....”

“You sure?” Jordan challenged. “You think if you tell him no, he’ll take it nicely?”

Liv sighed, pushing a jet-black strand of hair out of her eyes. “No,” she admitted. She jammed the toothbrush in her mouth and scrubbed.

“That doesn’t mean you should do it,” Jordan said.

Jordan threw the towel back on the silver rack and retreated to her room as Liv finished brushing her teeth and spat.

“It does, though!”

Jordan shook her head. “You should just call his bluff. He’s got his job to lose, you know.”

Jordan winked as she shrugged out of her barista T-shirt, exchanging it for one that didn’t smell like stale coffee.

“The worst that can happen is you have to come clean with your dad. So what? “ Jordan kicked off her Converse shoes and plopped down in the center of the couch, reaching for her Mac.

Liv moaned. “You know he’d put me out of business. And then you’d have to take over for me.”

Jordan just cackled. “I couldn’t sell dildos and you know it. I can barely sell coffee and that practically sells itself.” It was true Jordan wasn’t a people person. She tended to be a bit blunt and to the point.

Liv heard the sounds of music as Jordan started to mix a new track before she plugged in her headphones. Liv cinched the belt tighter on her terry cloth robe and retreated back to her room, where she plopped on her bed and opened her laptop. She’d need to start working on her dream, too, landing a job she could talk about at Sunday dinner. The problem was nobody was hiring marketing writers these days, and even when she did land a job interview, she had the sticky situation of what she’d been doing for the last year. She’d been more than vague about her current work. And truth be told, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to do marketing. Her communications degree had been a fallback. She was still trying to figure out her dream job.

* * *

Liv’s phone dinged with an incoming message. Porter’s number flashed across her phone.

You playing with toys?

Liv felt her mouth go dry as she glanced at the clock. It was just before noon. Was he texting when her father was around? Or was he out to lunch? She thought about ignoring him, but her fingers whipped across the keys before she could stop them.

I’m not on the clock.

His response was lightning fast: You will be Friday.

His words made her shiver just a little. You’re serious about Friday? Really?

Better believe it. And I want the most thorough party possible. Full demonstrations on everything.

Liv couldn’t help but grin. That’ll cost you extra.

Liv had just hit Send when her phone lit up with an incoming call from her dad, which nearly gave her a heart attack. She fumbled with the phone, quickly grabbing her hands-free Bluetooth and answering it, as if somehow her dad could read her naughty texts from the other end of the line.

“H-hello?” she stammered, sounding guilty, just as she always did when she was caught red-handed.

“Everything all right, Olivia?”

“Uh...yeah...” Liv cinched the belt on her robe and pulled her legs up under her on her bed. She sat up straighter, even though he couldn’t see her slouch through the phone.

“Sorry to bother you at work,” her dad’s voice rumbled through the receiver. Work? Liv thought, confused. Then it hit her: of course, her fake job, the one her parents thought she went to every weekday from eight ’til six, in the far-flung burbs in a small company no one’s heard of.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve got a minute. What’s up?” Liv slapped her laptop shut, too, as if her dad could miraculously read her online job listings, too.

“Uncle Robert is in town this weekend. We’re going to have a few people over at the house, maybe even grill some steaks or something. We want to make sure you can make it.”

Liv’s phone dinged again. She glanced at it.

I’ll pay whatever it takes.

She swallowed, hard, feeling hot and cold all at once. What was she doing? She was flirting with Porter, while her dad was on the line, and probably only a few office walls separated them. Nothing a good shout couldn’t get through.

“Olivia?” Her dad was still waiting for an answer.

“Sorry, it’s...uh...a bit hectic here. But, yeah, I can come. Sure.”

“Great. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Ok.” Liv was already trying to figure out what to text Porter next.

“Oh, and Liv...” Her dad cleared his throat on the other end. “Just wanted to tell you that we’re proud of you. With this new job, and making that first big step with your marketing career. I know your mother prayed for this to happen every day, and we’re both so happy that it came to pass. It just proves that God has big things in store for you.”

Liv felt as if someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water from Lake Michigan. She was completely sure that God’s plan for her did not involve battery-operated vibrators.

“Uh...thanks, Dad.” Liv hated lying to her parents, but she also couldn’t see how she could be honest with them, either. Aside from her secret college boyfriend, she’d never lied on this scale to her parents before. This was her first big rebellion, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Liv hung up and opened her laptop again. She’d never intended to lie to her parents this long, but she also had drastically underestimated how bad the job market was at the moment. Her phone dinged with another message from Porter.

Come to my place. 2622 N. Orchard. Come hungry. I’m serving dinner.

Dinner? That threw her. This was sounding like more of a date than a sex party. Was Porter interested in more than a casual hookup? Liv shook her head.

She thought about texting right then and there and calling the whole thing off. Why was she even seriously considering going? Jordan was wrong. Porter wouldn’t tell her dad, not if he valued his place at the firm. But what if that wasn’t true? Even worse, what if she went through with the party, but then Porter found out just how little she knew about the sex that went along with her toys?

She’d have to stall. Put him off. But could she do it? She thought about how little her willpower had mattered in the elevator.

As her fingers hovered near her phone, she remembered what Jordan had said, about Porter getting mad and telling her dad everything.

She couldn’t risk even a remote chance that Porter would do that.

She still remembered the look of pure anger on her father’s face when he’d found that Cosmo magazine she’d hidden under her mattress in her room when she was in eighth grade, the one that blatantly offered tips on blow jobs right on the cover. It wasn’t her fault, exactly. They’d never even dreamed of sitting her down and explaining the birds and the bees. She had to get what she could from fifth-grade sex ed and magazines.

No, she had to do it. She couldn’t risk calling Porter’s bluff. She’d have to go through with the party, but she certainly didn’t have to sleep with him. Unless she wanted to, a little annoying voice whispered in her head. She texted back before she lost her nerve:

I’ll be there.