Page 3 of Savage Temptation
Scarlet gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Well, as long as it’s not Channing Tatum or Chris Hemsworth, I hope you find it.”
A jewelry heiress calls him away, and I’m left wondering if I’ve gone insane.
As a waiter passes, and I grab a fresh drink, telling myself that I just need to loosen up. Let out a little steam. Maybe an evening of flirting followed by a night of debauchery is what I need to jumpstart my enthusiasm for life.
But I’m more than my bank account and the innovations of my company. I don’t want those to be the qualifiers that make me worthy of a woman’s attention. Or anyone’s attention, for that matter. All they see is rich, handsome Atticus Savage with more money than he knows what to do with and they want to hop on board.
Across the room, I spot someone as dour-faced as myself, which brings a smile to my lips.
Lance’s sister Tessa stands with a glass in her hand, glaring daggers at her best friend Ashley, who is talking a mile a minute.
She’s gorgeous in only the way a person can be when she barely puts any effort at all into being beautiful. Not to say that she’s sloppy. She’s just…effortlessly whimsical.
My eyes are drawn to her shapely legs that I’ve imagined wrapped around my waist half a hundred times just this week alone, but they don’t stop there, they travel up her trim waist to her perky tits, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that she’s gone braless
Tessa and Ashley are proof that opposites attract. Ashley is the heiress to a peanut empire, which may not sound like much, but it affords her private jets, luxury accommodations, and a life of leisure.
While Tessa, with the same middle-class parents as Lance, works her ass off conducting domestic and international fraud investigations. She’s kind of a badass.
Growing up, I never realized that Lance’s bratty sister would transform into the intelligent, snarky, alluring beauty she is today. It happened while she attended college. She came to a party, and I didn’t realize it was her. Seeing her sans braces with her acne cleared was a shock to my system. I’ve never fumbled my words with a woman before, but all at once, I developed an awkward stutter I blamed on a hangover I never had.
Perhaps one of the things I most admire about her is that even though she has been surrounded by some of the most privileged assholes in existence, she was always appreciative of what she had. On her sweet sixteen, when her parents bought her a nine-year-old Toyota Corolla, she squealed with delight and begged to take it around the block even though her best friends were all driving Mercedes, BMWs, and Aston Martins.
And if anyone ever gave her hell for it, those friends would put their pretentious asses in their place. Not that she needed their help. Tessa never groveled to those with money. She never backed down. Never submitted.
Even now, surrounded by perfectly polished women who have teams that do their hair, makeup, and wardrobe, Tessa wears her bohemian chic signature style without caring what others think.
And somehow, she makes it work when others would struggle. Her beige gown fits loosely, but still hugs her in all the right places, accentuating her hips and that round little ass of hers. Sparkling embellishments give her an ethereal aura, making her as unapproachable as a goddess.
But that’s Tessa in her authentic form, with her blonde hair styled in wild waves, wisps set in charming braids.
She’s the most beguiling woman I’ve ever seen, which makes the fact that Lance has put her off-limits to our circle of friends maddening.
She’s the one thing I can’t have in this world, even though she’s the only person capable of fixing me. Of filling this hollowness that’s been growing inside of me. Consuming me.
I approach, and for the first time this evening, this week, this month, I feel happy.
“What are you ladies gossiping about?” I ask with a waggle of my brow.
“Oh, we were just wondering if the rumors are true,” Ashley says, then takes a big gulp of her champagne.
“What rumors are you speaking of?”
Ashley and Tessa look at each other with wry grins.
“The sex toy mods,” Tessa says, then breaks out into a fit of giggles.
“Jesus Christ.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Why is everyone so focused on the sex implications when there are medical advancements to be had?”
“Hey,” Tessa points an authoritative finger at me, which I kind of like. “Don’t act like masturbation doesn’t have health benefits. I hear it decreases the risk of prostate cancer in men and cures mania in women.”
She and Ashley giggle.
“If you must know, we’ve contracted with several niche businesses. Some will manufacture medical props to help people train in the virtual world, while others will serve a more recreational purpose.”
Tessa’s jaw drops. If we were alone, I might be stupid enough to kiss those pouty lips of hers.
Which means we can never be alone.
