Page 10 of You Were Never Not Mine

I don’t want to tell him how my father made his fortune because it’s a tad embarrassing. “My family does well.”

“Modest, too. Has anyone ever told you that you’re stunning?”

I blink at him, shocked that he would compliment me. I even glance around, making sure no one is lurking in a corner filming our conversation so he can broadcast it on social media. I wouldn’t doubt August would do something like that. At least, eighteen-year-old August wouldn’t hesitate to humiliate me in that manner.

But there’s no one lurking in any dark corners. It’s just me and August and he seems…genuine.

“No,” I finally say, my voice so soft I wonder if he can hear me. I clear my throat. “No one has ever used that particular word to describe me before.”

“It’s true,” he says without hesitation. “Though I’m not sure if you believe me when I say it.”

“I don’t.”

He appears taken aback by my blunt response, but his expression neutralizes in seconds. That knowing smile is curving his lips once more and yet again, he leans in close to me, his cheek practically pressed to mine when he whispers in my ear, “Guess I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince you that I’m telling the truth then.”

Chapter Five

AUGUST

We talk for hours.Hours.I have no idea what time it is, and I still don’t know her name, but we keep drinking the good scotch that Cyrus hates, and I’m drunk. She is too. The more she drinks, the more animated she becomes. Her golden-brown eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed and the longer I look at her, the more beautiful she becomes. We talk about everything and nothing at all and all I can think about as I watch her mouth move is what she might look like with my cock nestled between her lips and I’m instantly hard.

Aching.

This woman isn’t interested in me that way though. I don’t think she is, at least, so why am I talking to her again? She doesn’t offer up any sultry glances or flirtatious remarks like every other woman at this party who’s dying to do exactly that once she gets in my presence.

No, this woman is straightforward and earnest, yet also mysterious and coy. I want to know more. I want to know everything, including how she tastes and what color her nipples are. I imagine they match the shade of her perfectly pink lips,which aren’t covered in lipstick or gloss, not even lip balm, which is jarring. Every woman who comes into this place slicks her mouth with an abundance of gloss, and then there’s Yolanda. Her lipstick is so damn dark, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it and I probably wouldn’t recognize her if she showed up not wearing it. She keeps a tube of that stuff in every room possible in this house. I’m fairly certain there’s one sitting on my dresser at this very moment that I found in the hallway a few days ago.

Glancing around, I immediately wish I could banish everyone from this house. It's not private enough here. The older I am, the more boundaries I mentally and physically establish. I get sick of my fellow fraternity brothers and their antics, despite the fact I’m supposed to be a good example and lead them. I’m the fraternity president, a position I didn’t necessarily want but how could I turn it down when they offered it? If I had my choice, I’d fully move out of this house and never come back. I’m over it. I’m over pretty much everything in life lately, bored out of my skull…

Except for this woman sitting beside me on the velvet couch.

I stretch out my arm, desperate to touch her and I do, drifting my fingers along the inner crook of her elbow. She shivers, jerking her arm away from me and keeping it tucked firmly against her side.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” She sounds hesitant though and I second-guess myself for a split second before I speak.

“Are you not interested? In me?” I can’t help but ask because I’m drunk as fuck and why else would she not respond to me touching her. I can feel the chemistry brewing between us. Swirling all around us. And I don’t feel this sort of thing for just any woman.

Maybe I’m drunker than I realize. And I sound like aninsecure little fuck which is borderline embarrassing, but again—I’m too inebriated to care.

She laughs and it’s the sweetest fucking sound, unlike anything I’ve heard before. “Why would you ask me that?”

I decide to be honest with her, something I rarely do. “You didn’t want me to touch you.”

Her smile is demure and she even ducks her head for a moment, watching me through her thick eyelashes. “I’m not here for a hookup.”

Well that’s a damn shame. All I can think about is getting her naked in my bed. “That’s why anyone is here tonight.”

“Not me.”

“Huh.” I’m baffled. “That’s too bad.”

She lifts her head, her eyes flaring wide. “Youwantto hook up with me? Really?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” I keep my voice level, like what she said doesn’t bother me but fuck it. It bothers me. “Like I’ve already told you countless times. You’re beautiful.”

I clamp my lips shut, hating how forthcoming I’m being. I don’t do this sort of thing. A woman has its purposes in my life and that’s mostly for fucking. On occasion going to dinner, but damn. That always creates expectations that I can’t and won’t meet so I don’t bother.

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