Sexiled: an enemies-to-lovers standalone Page 5

  “Okay. Just so you know, I can’t even put into words how magical tonight was.”

  I head back up the stairs, smiling and giddy. There’s a lightness in my heart.

  Is it possible to fall in love with someone in one night? I mean, Romeo and Juliet did as Morgan mentioned. I continue to wonder as I get to the top of the stairs.

  But I am not even going to entertain that thought.

  You just got out of a six-year relationship less than two weeks ago, April!

  When I enter the suite, I find everyone sitting on the couches eating popcorn, but not watching TV. And then I hear it. Noises… voices… coming from my room.

  Sex noises, to be precise.

  “Hey, guys.” I wave to Alex, DJ, Donnie, Faith, Charlotte, and Chris, then squint toward the sounds coming from my door.

  Alex and I now have our own room in the suite. Our third roommate, Maya, lived with us to make our room a triple during the winter, but she recently dropped out of college to pursue painting as her full-time career in the city.

  However, today Maya reunited with her boyfriend after they’d been broken up for a while, and…let’s just say, they’re making up for lost time.

  “You’ve been sexiled by Grant and Maya. You cannot go in your room because they are having sex, in case all that noise wasn’t clear,” Chris announces.

  A ridiculously loud scream comes from the room, and our eyes grow wide in unison.

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious!” DJ jokes.

  “Do you think she’s all right in there?” Faith asks. “It really sounds like she’s, you know…”

  “Getting readjusted?” Charlotte chimes in, and everyone laughs.

  “It sounds like some porno stuff they’re doing in there,” Chris says.

  I sigh and sit down on the couches. Maya has been one of my best friends since I started at Greene State freshman year and has had her own ups and down that included her parents’ divorce just last year. “Grant and Maya have been through a lot. If anyone deserves to sexile their roommates, it’s them,” I say.

  Donnie laughs. “No, April.”

  “No? What do you mean, no?” I retort.

  “I mean, if anyone deserves to be the one doing the sexiling, it’s you. How many times did DJ and Alex sexile you this year?” He raises his bowl of popcorn and offers me some.

  I shrug, picking up a handful. “Oh, I don’t know. A few.”

  Donnie laughs again. “More than a few. And how many times have you been the one doing the sexiling?”

  “Well, I…”

  My handful of popcorn hovers in front of my mouth.

  My nostrils flare, and heat flashes through my body.

  I think back to the past year. Matt often came up with reasons not to stay with me and to just come down for the day. Now it all makes sense why he was acting so shady. I was an on-paper girlfriend for him.

  My anguish converts to anger.

  “Dang,” I say. “Never.”

  A few beats pass, and I feel the eyes of everyone on me.

  “It’s okay,” Faith chimes in. “Me neither.”

  I smile dimly in Faith’s direction. She has self-control I will never know.

  Rage bubbles up from inside me.

  “Never. I never sexiled anyone.” With that realization, my pulse speeds, and I grind my teeth. Maya’s moans of passion reverberate through the suite, along with Grant’s low voice. “I’m a fool. An utter, absolute fool.”

  Chris, Donnie, and DJ leave—something about a late-night poker game at the Alpha Z house, and then it’s just the girls and me.

  We sit silently for a few moments.

  “Do you think they’re done?” Charlotte asks, nodding in the direction of the room.

  “They have to be,” Faith says. “I mean, they’ve been going for hours and—”

  Just then, a little noise starts up again.

  Alex sighs. “Make-up sex. I know all about that.”

  “I don’t,” I mutter.

  “Hey,” Alex says. “What happened to Morgan? You get his number?”

  I shake my head. “He got mine. He invited me back to his hotel room, but I said no, obviously.”

  “Obviously?” Charlotte quips.

  “Yeah, obviously. I just got out of a relationship. Isn’t there like a mandatory one-month period where you don’t hook up with guys?”

  “Um…no,” Alex says. “Where did you get that idea?”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just not a one-night stand kind of girl.”

  “You turned down Morgan Kennedy?” Faith repeats.

  I sigh. “Please, don’t tell me why he’s such a big deal. I don’t want to know. He’s hot, yes. A sexy sweetheart, and we really connected.”

  “So you’ll see him again?” Alex asks.

  “I hope so.” I think about the connection the two of us had. “I really do.”

  Charlotte adds, “Let me ask you something. Do you want to go over to his hotel and, you know, have some fun?”

  Shifting in my seat, I can’t quite get a handle on what I am feeling here. “Yes, I was attracted to him and his kisses, but I was living in the moment. Really, I’m going to do…what exactly? Head over to his hotel? I’ve never done it with anyone, for starters.”

  There’s a collective sigh from the group. “Just tell him to go easy at first,” Charlotte says. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Charlotte adds, “You’ve got to do what you want. When I was a freshman, there was this hot senior who wanted to hook up with me. We had a really great night together. I turned him down and said we should get coffee the next day. We did, but it was awkward for some reason. I can’t help but think what would have happened if we would have slept together that night. I know that might seem shallow, but it’s true.”

  Alex nods. “It’s not shallow, it’s just reality. Sex definitely solidified my and DJ’s bond. I mean, I’m sure you’ll see him again though. If you’re like, morally worried about a one-night stand, you should let that go. Sorry if that’s harsh.”

  Charlotte leans back and sighs. “If you want my advice, there’s times in life you need to strike when the iron is hot. Sometimes you don’t get a second chance.”

  I shake my head. “It’s too soon. I just broke up with Matt.”

  The girls go silent for a few moments until Faith finally speaks up. “Honey, even though your ‘official’ breakup was two weeks ago, let’s be honest. You two were falling apart for months.”

  My skin tingles. Faith very rarely expresses her judgment, part of her whole ‘judge not, lest ye be judged’ life philosophy. “Faith, are you advocating that I go for the one-night stand? Isn’t that like…against your principles?”

  “If you see him again, that’s not a one-night stand.” Faith shrugs. “Plus, just because they’re my principles, doesn’t mean they need to be applied to everyone. To each their own. You said you had a major connection with him.”

  A fluttery feeling comes back into my stomach, the same feeling I had when Morgan kissed me.

  My thoughts get fuzzy as I remember Morgan’s invitation.

  I’m in room 4021 at the Best Western if you change your mind.

  My eyes drift again toward the noise coming from Grant and Maya’s room. I mull over Morgan’s words, twisting them around on my tongue.

  Good God, how long can they go at it for?

  I clench my fists, and the memory of Morgan’s masculine scent creeps back into my mind. I also remember Morgan’s first words to me on the volleyball court today, wondering if I was actually going to play or if I was just going to spectate.

  My skin tingles.

  I’m done spectating, I think. In all aspects of life.

  “Screw it,” I mutter. “I’m going.”

  “Yes!” Alex pumps her fist and chants, “Ap-ril! Ap-ril!”

  “How should I do it?” I grin, looking down at my clothes. I have on the same tank top I played volleyball in. br />
  “You should show up naked in a trench coat,” Faith blurts out, a little excitedly.

  Everyone sort of turns to Faith, who isn’t usually one to be so blunt about these things.

  “I mean, just saying. I’ve heard that’s hot,” she adds. “I’m researching things to do when I’m married, you know?”

  “Seems a little extreme,” Alex says. “Just showing up at all would be fine.”

  I stand up. “I’m showering off…and Faith, do you actually own a trench coat?”

  She nods. “I do. It’s yours for the night, if you need it.”

  I squint at her, curious what she’s ever used that for.

  Twenty-five minutes of getting ready and a ten minute car ride later, my heart is slamming against my chest as I pull up to the hotel.

  I’ve weighed the pros and cons repeatedly on the way over, and I’m holding firm that there are some risks in life you’ll regret not taking.

  And after being sexiled on and off all year but never being the one doing the sexiling, I’m done playing nice.

  Well, at least for tonight.

  I move in my heels quickly through the door, carrying my overnight bag. Beneath my borrowed trench coat is my special occasion matching lingerie set. At the time I bought it, the sales lady said the color would be perfect with my hair and insisted I buy it.

  I had to tell Maya and Grant to cool it for five minutes so I could jump in and grab the set and my toiletries.

  How ridiculous. Their stamina is medal-worthy.

  I take the elevator up to his floor, my thoughts fumbling over themselves.

  What if it’s the wrong room?

  What if he takes one look at me and turns me down?

  What if…

  I make my way down the hall, thanking my lucky stars that I haven’t seen anyone I know on the way here. I think I’d lose my nerve. I don’t know how I’d explain why I’m walking through a hotel in a beige trench coat and heels. I look like a freaking call girl, for goodness’ sake. This is—by far the ballsiest thing I’ve done in my short time on this planet.

  If it weren’t for my breakup with Matt, I probably would have stayed stuck in my little world.

  But I’m done playing by someone else’s made-up rules.

  Maybe the rage I felt over the past couple of weeks has transformed itself into a newfound fire for adventure. I like that.

  I reach the room and knock three times on the door.

  I hear music playing inside. A deep throat clearing.

  The door opens.

  Morgan has a white towel wrapped around his lower half, and his black hair is slicked back behind his head, still wet. His muscled body glistens with water from the shower.

  His shoulders look even wider than they did on the courts this afternoon, tapering down to his lean waist. It’s quite the V shape he has going on.

  “April,” he says, “You’re…in a trench coat? Come on in, is everything alright?”

  His tone is more concerned than ready for action, which comforts me, and reinforces the reason I feel safe coming here.

  I go inside his room and set my bag down, pangs wailing in my heart.

  “Can you dim the lights?” I say.

  He turns off the piercing overhead lights, and leaves on one corner light, that gives off a soft glow.

  “Morgan, I have something to show you,” I say, turning toward him with my hands holding the cloth of the still-closed trench coat.

  “Oh?” His tone is laced with surprise and excitement. I wonder if he suspects what’s about to happen.

  With one movement I let the trench coat fall to the ground around me, revealing my red lingerie.

  My near-nakedness hits me. Making myself this vulnerable to Morgan is a rush, and goosebumps rise up all over my body.

  Morgan’s jaw drops, and he looks like he’s trying to speak, but has nothing to say.

  Summoning every ounce of boldness I have, I just simply smile. “Cat got your tongue?”

  He steps toward me and runs his hot fingertips down the flesh of my stomach.

  “No, the cat doesn’t have my tongue. But you’re about to get it.”

  His eyes flicker up to mine, and just their depth seems to make my core burn.

  Grabbing hold of my sides with both hands, he kneels in front of me, and in the most feral gesture imaginable, he grabs my ass and moves his mouth over my panties, inhaling my scent.

  “April,” he says. “Do you have any idea how beautifully delicious you are right now? I want to eat you like a peach.”

  “Is it the trench coat thing?” I play, feeling the bursts of heat erupt throughout my body. “Does that turn you on?”

  He drags his tongue from my belly button all the way up my torso. Getting off his knees, he continues the path of his tongue between my breasts, to my neck, until he’s standing.

  I feel myself melting in his grasp, ready for him.

  “No, the trench coat doesn’t turn me on.”

  “What does?”

  “You.”

  My breath hitches and I look down.

  “Me,” I whisper.

  He grins. “Yes, you, April.”

  His tongue slides down to the side of my neck.

  “You’re mine,” he whispers.

  I drag my nails over his back in response.

  “Yes, I’m yours.” Cheekily, I add, “For the night.”

  I yelp when his hand smacks my ass and holds my cheek. He kisses me on the lips, and I moan.

  Morgan lifts his head up and grins deviously.

  “I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I saw you,” he says.

  “Me too,” I admit.

  Butterflies rise up on the back of my neck, and I can’t believe what I’m about to do with this man.

  6

  Morgan

  Monday Morning – Chicago, IL

  There’s something about hanging-from-the-chandeliers, soul-shattering, heart-pounding sex that brings me to life.

  For the past eight months I’ve been trying to find my footing, and I finally found it, with April’s help.

  After what we did inside and outside of the bedroom Saturday night and well into Sunday morning, I feel like a changed man.

  April and I did it, well, five times that I can remember. Six, if you count the hour or so she rode my face.

  Seven, if you count the thirty-minute make-out session in the hotel’s public hot tub Sunday morning that would have turned to sex had a group of train engineers not walked in.

  I wanted to keep tasting her. I just couldn’t get enough.

  So when I wake up on Monday back in my apartment in Chicago, she’s the first thing that pops into my head. The taste of her mouth. The feel of her body underneath mine.

  It almost feels like what we had wasn’t real. It was an isolated, too-good-to-be-true, one-time incident. A dream.

  Except that I can still taste her on my tonuge, so I know it was real.

  I look at the photo I took of her sleeping naked, and my heart slams against my chest.

  A thought incredibly uncharacteristic of me comes to my mind:

  Morgan, you’re going to marry this girl.

  Okay, it’s crazy, and I don’t know why exactly I think this, or where the voice comes from, but it’s there.

  When I roll over in bed, my only worry is that I shouldn’t text her yet. Should I wait? Not seem too eager? Isn’t that part of the game college students like to play?

  Fuck games, I decide. I don’t play games. I know what I want, and it’s her.

  But I’m a madman. We spent one night together, less than twenty-four hours, and I’m having these thoughts.

  I get out of bed, do my pushups and situps for the morning, then head to the bathroom.

  “Am I totally insane, Michael?” I ask out loud as I shave.

  Hey, we all have unique quirks and one of mine is asking my deceased brother what he thinks about my out of character behavior. I can always depend on him fo
r honesty.

  She’s all I can think about as I head out the door of my apartment for my interview with Chicago’s number one hedge fund.

  I twist my phone in my hand, thinking about what I’ll text her. I’ll wait until after my interview. I’m too amped up right now and I don’t want to send her something that I won’t be able to reply to quickly if she starts up a text conversation.

  As I head through the streets of Chicago on Monday morning, I’m whistling.

  Fucking whistling.

  Who am I?

  “Oh my God,” a woman in a blue pantsuit says. “You’re Morgan Kennedy! Can I get a picture?”

  I smile and wink. “You got it.”

  She leans on my shoulder and snaps a selfie of us with the Sears Tower in view. Oh, I mean the Willis Tower.

  Whatever. All the real Chicagoans still call it the Sears Tower.

  Whatever its name, I continue walking toward that same tower. It houses Murphy Capital, where I’ll be interviewing today and hopefully working soon if I nail it. I help an older lady cross the street who is moving very slow in Chicago traffic, even getting caught up in the middle of the intersection at a yellow light.

  “Thank you, son,” she says.

  I smile broadly at her. “No problem at all, ma’am. Careful with those yellows.”

  In a mood, I roll into the interview on cloud nine, and—I’m not going to lie—I nail it.

  The CEO of the biggest hedge fund in Chicago where I’m applying, Hal Murphy, is notorious for his hard-nosed, no-bullshit interview strategy, as I learned from a buddy of mine from Greene State who applied for this job.

  And didn’t get it.

  But the end of the interview, I feel like I’ve got him on his heels, even though he’s the one behind the big, intimidating desk. I’m flying. I’m definitely getting this position, I think.

  “I’ve got one more question for you, Morgan,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s something I ask all of my applicants, so don’t take it personally.”

  “Of course, sir,” I say, and I’m ready for absolutely anything he has to throw at me.

  He reaches on his desk for a picture frame, staring at it fondly. “So far, no interviewee has been able to get this question right.”