More Than Fashion (10 page)

“Pity.” He grinned and grabbed the cups rolling across the table and began stacking them again. The urge to mess up his pyramid a second time was hard to resist, but I restrained myself. Barely.

“I’m sure you’ll win a challenge soon,” Dawn said, smiling at me.

“The next one, for sure,” Trina added.

I waved my hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m just happy I wasn’t in the bottom again. The middle is good enough.”

“No, you deserved to be in the top on the last two challenges,” Gavin said. “Your wedding gown was unique, with that ombré effect. And both your looks today were brilliant.”

His praise was almost enough to make me feel better, but not quite. “Thanks, but you guys don’t need to cheer me up. I was just lucky to get through this challenge without any bite marks. Mostly from the woman, not her dog.”

The others laughed and launched into stories about the dogs they’d worked with. I laughed with them, but all throughout dinner, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was sitting at a table with three winners, while I felt like the biggest loser ever.

I’d been confident when I’d come on the show. Maybe too confident. When I’d learned I was the youngest designer this season, I hadn’t let it phase me. I’d taken it as a sign that I deserved to be here. Even when Derrick and Nika called me inexperienced, I’d brushed it off.

But now I keenly felt my lack of experience and schooling. Yes, I was a pretty good designer, but the other contestants had gone to college for fashion design, had worked for other designers, and had spent years in the field already. Me? I’d spent the last few years preparing to be a doctor while tinkering with clothes in my bedroom in my spare time. And that wasn’t enough.

I was out of my league here. If I didn’t step up my game soon, I would be out.

Problem was, I didn’t have the first clue how.

***

I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling for hours, my poor, exhausted body begging my mind to shut off already, but nothing worked. That damn anxiety was back, giving me insomnia again. And Molly’s foghorn snoring definitely wasn’t helping.

After another hour, I couldn’t take it any longer. I got up and tiptoed past the other sleeping girls and into one of the bathrooms. I stayed in there for a few minutes, enjoying the beautiful sound of silence, until I thought I could brave the bedroom again. But as I walked down the hall, I heard Gavin’s voice.

“Julie,” he said, calling me by my real name for a change. “You’re still awake.”

“Just using the bathroom.” I was suddenly all too aware of what I was wearing: a thin tank top and tiny shorts—nothing else. Not that he hadn’t already seen plenty of me before. But this seemed more intimate somehow.

He leaned against the doorway of the winner’s suite, one tattooed arm arched over his head. He was still dressed in his usual button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. Neither one of us was wearing our mics. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not really.” I should walk away. Say goodnight. Yet I didn’t move.

“The offer to stay tonight is still on the table. And I’m happy to take the couch.” He lowered his voice. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Heat flickered through me from his gaze and at the offer in his words. “Ask Nika. I’m sure she’d love to join you.”

“I don’t want Nika.” He took a step forward and brushed the hair away from my face. “Come inside. We can discuss whatever’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” I said, although I didn’t move away.

“That other night you begged me to stay with you. You said you didn’t want to be alone.” His voice was quiet, too low to be picked up by the cameras recording us. He placed his hands on my bare arms, rubbing my cool skin as though to keep me warm. “Perhaps I can help you sleep tonight, too.”

I stiffened at his words. Yes, I often had trouble sleeping, but I hated the reminder of how pathetic I’d been that night. “What, you think because we hooked up one time that you know me? You’re wrong. You don’t know anything about me.”

“No? I know you’re smart and passionate and not afraid to speak your mind. I know you’re creative and talented and hard-working.” His words were too much, making me feel things I didn’t want to feel. I looked away, but he bowed his head to whisper into my ear. “I know how you taste between your legs. I know the way it sounds when you moan my name. I know the look on your face when you come.”

How dare he bring that up, and how dare my treacherous body respond so easily, practically melting right into his arms. The smell of him, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on me—all combined to fill me with an overwhelming rush of desire. It was all I could do not to crush my mouth against his.

And yet, at the same time, I wanted to tell him to go to hell.

He shrugged and took a step back, completely unaffected, and returned to the suite’s door. “Have a lovely evening.”

Oh, hell no. He thought he had all the power in this relationship, and I had none. But I was going to find a way to tip the scales. I planted my hand on the door, stopping him from closing it. “Wait.”

A smile spread across his face. “Change your mind?”

“No. We…we need to talk.”

He stepped back and let me in. The door shut behind me.

We stood in a large room with a king-sized bed covered in a luxurious, fluffy duvet that looked a thousand times more soft and comfortable than the one on my twin bed in the other room. It practically begged me to lie down on it. Across from it was a huge flat-screen TV, the only one in the Loft. On the other side was a seating area, plus a table and chairs and a mini-fridge. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on top.

Shit, what was I doing? I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to throw him on that fancy bed and ride him like I’d stolen him. But that was a bad idea. A really, really seductive bad idea.

“So talk, love.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. In front of me. Slowly. Like he wanted me to watch. And at that first flash of skin, all the words I was going to say slipped from my mind.

“Hmm?” he asked.

I forced myself to look away as another button popped open. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

I gestured at him, eyes averted. “Undressing.”

“Just getting comfortable.” He draped his shirt over the back of a chair, and I pointedly did
not
look at his naked chest. “You’re welcome to stay. We could finish what we started the other night.”

“You mean, before you disappeared?”

“If I remember correctly,
you
fell asleep.”

I gave a little shrug. “You didn’t seem very into it anyway.”

“I was
very
into it.” He crossed the room to me, and now I couldn’t help but take in his toned, lean chest, dusted with a touch of dark hair trailing down into his black jeans. “But I don’t have sex with drunk women.”

“No, you just go down on them and then leave.”

He moved closer, almost touching me, only an inch apart. He lowered his head to speak into my ear, and his breath was soft against my skin. “I don’t remember you complaining. Or should I remind you?”

His accent made every word sound like sex, and I had a hard time thinking straight. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Why did you leave then?”

“You were passed out. I waited for a bit, but then I went back to my room. Staying any longer would’ve only complicated things.” He didn’t touch me, and yet we stood so close that I felt him everywhere. Every word was like a physical caress, every breath a promise.

“You could have left a note.”

“You made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me after that night.”

“I didn’t. I
don’t
.”

“And yet you’re in a bedroom with me in the middle of the night.”

He’d got me there. I scrambled for an excuse. “I’m here to talk about…Carla.”

“Ah. Don’t worry. I won’t reveal your secret.”

I should move away from him—standing this close to someone for so long was far too intimate—yet I couldn’t pull away. The sexual tension was so strong it practically crackled between us, and it was everything I could do to hold myself back. But he hadn’t touched me either, like he was waiting for me to make the first move. “Why should I trust you?”

He gave a casual shrug. “I didn’t tell anyone about us, did I?”

“There is no
us
.”

“No, of course not.”

Our lips crashed together, our bodies closing the slight gap between us. I kissed him hard, forcing his mouth open, flicking my tongue inside. He gave as good as he got, his hands gripping my waist and pulling my body against his. My chest rose and fell against his, my breasts brushing his bare skin through my thin top. I couldn’t stop myself from touching his shoulders, sliding my hands down every ridge of his toned abs to his hips…and even lower. He was already hard; I could feel it through his jeans and my clothes. Proof that I affected him as much as he affected me.

“This means nothing,” I said when we broke apart.

“Keep telling yourself that, love.”

His lips trailed down my neck, and his hands glided down my lower back. I closed my eyes and leaned into his body, into his warm kisses and the desire that swept through me every time he touched me. He made everything else in my head vanish except this moment with him, and that scared me. I couldn’t afford to forget that, outside this room, he was my competition—and I had a feeling that if I let him in, if I let him get too close, he could really hurt me. He knew too many of my secrets already.

Besides, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I didn’t want to like him or get involved with him. I just wanted to fuck him. What we had was purely physical, that was it. And I was tired of this power imbalance between us. He knew me in an intimate way, and he seemed to think that gave him the upper hand. No more.

I pushed him back, palms flat against his chest. He watched me as I focused on his jeans. Popping the button open. Sliding the zipper down. Gripping the fabric and easing them off. He didn’t stop me, and soon he was in nothing but black boxer briefs, straining at the front.

Those had to go, too.

Every new inch of skin revealed only made him hotter, and by the time he stood naked before me, I was dying for a taste of him. I wanted to devour him, to lick every inch before filling my body with him. He watched me silently, letting me take control, but even without words, it was obvious how much he wanted me. I loved having that power over him. And now I’d seen him completely naked, while he’d seen only part of me. The balance was beginning to shift back into my favor.

He reached for my shorts, but I pushed his hand away. There was something I had to do to even the scales. Something I’d been dying to do since that first night we’d met in the bar.

I kneeled in front of him, like he’d done to me the other night, and pulled his hips to me. I slid my hands along his thighs, along the coiled muscles in his legs that must come from some sort of exercise or sport. I knew so little about him. But, I reminded myself, that was the way I wanted it.

My fingers explored him, cupping, stroking, and squeezing. He watched me, growing harder with each touch, his entire body straining for more. I moistened my lips, sliding my tongue across them, and his hungry eyes followed my every move. But I wanted him to suffer a little.

He groaned. “Julie…”

“Stop talking.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to protest, until I flicked my tongue along his tip. That shut him up real fast.

I gave him one long, slow lick down his length, and he shuddered. I took my time, teasing him, exploring him with tiny, quick kisses and tastes. Giving blowjobs was a specialty of mine, honed and refined over many years and many guys. Maybe that made me a slut in some people’s eyes, but fuck that. I liked men, I liked sex, and I liked myself, and I didn’t give a damn what other people thought. And as Gavin threw his head back and moaned while I took him in my mouth, my experience was paying off.

“Julie, love,” he managed to get out as my lips closed around him.

I drew him in, taking him deeper into my mouth, working him over with my tongue. His hands dug into my hair, gripping it hard, pulling until it almost hurt. The slight pain turned me on even more and I wanted him inside me, but that wasn’t going to happen. Tonight was about making him suffer like I had, about knowing him in a way only a lover could, about settling the score between us.

I cupped his balls in one hand and grabbed his ass with the other, digging my nails into his tight skin. His hips jerked, sliding my lips along his length as he moved in and out. I yanked him closer, deeper, pulling him in. His hands fisted tighter in my hair, and even though he tried to direct me, I had all the power in this position. My hand slid up and down his length in time with my mouth, while my tongue swirled around the head. He bucked against me, groaning, but I didn’t let go.

“Love, if you keep that up, I—”

I let him slip from my mouth and glared up at him. “Stop. Talking.”

I took him deep again before he could say another word, and between my lips, tongue, and fingers, he soon lost the ability to speak. Only grunts and groans came from him, along with a few murmurs of my name. I increased my pace, flicking my tongue along him harder, faster, deeper. My eyes trailed up his long, lean body, and I watched as his face twisted, his hands gripped my hair tighter, and every inch of his body seemed to clench up for an instant before he let go, releasing himself into my mouth. I kept going until he was completely done, until he was practically falling over in front of me. Only then, when he was completely spent, did I release him.

His hands slowly extracted themselves from my hair. I stood up, fingers trailing along his bare hips and up his chest. He lowered his head to kiss me, but I turned away, despite the overwhelming urge to meet his mouth with mine. He reached for the hem of my tank top, pushing it up, and his touch sent flurries of lust across my skin.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said.

I moved to the door, even as my body hummed for his touch, aching to feel him inside me. But no matter how much I wanted to turn around, to push him down onto the bed and climb on top of him, I resisted.