[18+] Sophia has to ignore her steamy chemistry with British popstar Teddy Stone in order to get revenge on him for upsetting her best friend.
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Pop sensation Teddy St...
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"I'm not—" I started.
"Sit down."
His commanding tone triggered an onslaught of inconvenient memories. Stand up and take off your dress. I tried to stop the warmth from spreading, especially since this really wasn't the time to be getting turned on, but I couldn't help it. Last night he had spoken to every single secret desire. And whether re-using that same tone now was deliberate or not, we'd both be thinking the same thing.
Refusing to show weakness, I kicked off my shoes. The mattress dipped as I hopped onto the opposite side of the bed and crossed my legs in front of me to act as a barrier.
"Go on..." he said, as if daring me. "Ask the question."
I sighed and met his icy blue gaze, trying to find a clue that would help me read his mind. Our conversation on the plane had been playful, yet I'd grown frustrated with his increasingly guarded answers. Two weeks later, the tension between us had evolved into something far more intense than flirty banter and, with that, Teddy was offering me the information I'd desperately craved. Part of me was curious, but I also feared the truth. If I'd got this completely wrong, it held a lot more weight now than it did during a light-hearted game.
"I really don't care. Not anymore."
"Don't lie to me, Sophia. Ask the damn question."
My eyes drifted over the relaxed frame of his body, knees bent as his long fingers toyed with the frayed fabric of the tears in his jeans. Out of the two of us, only I appeared uncomfortable with the situation, like I was walking into a trap—or, worse, about to find out something that I didn't want to learn.
When he quirked an impatient eyebrow at me, inconvenient heat pooled between my legs. He knew exactly what he was doing, just like he'd known exactly what he was doing last night, too. Rather than intimidate me like he probably intended, I let the memories of sex fuel my confidence. If I didn't like the answers, that was my problem—not his.
"Fine. How many people have you slept with?" I asked in a bored tone.
"Want me to go through them one-by-one, as well?"
Dick.
"No, thanks. Wouldn't want to make you late for your interview tomorrow."
Teddy's lips twitched, but I couldn't read any amusement on his face, nor in the dangerous chuckle that followed.
"How about we have a wager, then?" he offered. "Since you think you already know the answer, have a guess. If you're within a ten-percent margin... That thing you begged and begged me for last night? I'll do it for the whole of the evening, until you beg me to stop instead."
As if I needed proof that his head still occupied the same space as mine. It didn't help matters, and I resented how my imagination drifted there, how the cogs in my brain were already trying to justify it on the grounds that hate sex was not as damaging to Becca as romantic sex.
