Definitely not fate.
I still struggle to keep up, my feet flopping around in the new-to-me shoes, and he’s practically sprinting up the sidewalk. We bump into people, and I whisper apologies as he drags me along, aware that they likely can’t hear my words.
He moves fast, with his head tucked into his chest, alternating between glancing back at me and at the crowd. If someone’s holding a cell phone to take pictures, or a camera points in our direction, he veers as far away as he can get, blending into the darkness.
We pass by the complex where the gala is being hosted, and I still do a double take to see if maybe Mellie and Aurora are scouring the outside for me. I don’t see them, and soon I don’t see anyone as Aiden snags a corner and crosses the street.
I feel the water before I see it; the air gets a little cooler, a lot cleaner, and soaks into my skin with a soft breeze. He releases my hand as we reach a dead end, and I wonder if this marks the finish line of our adventure.
A coerced night with a rock star, a change of clothes, and a bagel I haven’t even gotten to taste yet. I suppose there are worse ways to close out a trip to New York City.
But Aiden doesn’t stay still for long; his figure moves in the shadows cast by the streetlights, and he starts up the path in front of us, pushing the chain-link gate back enough for us to slip in. I follow like a cat fiending for tuna, shuffling behind him.
Once past the wrought iron fence surrounding the area, we stop to catch our breath.
The park is compact, mostly made up of brick and concrete, dotted with gardens I suspect are probably flush with exotic flora in the spring. Right now, they’re barren, the wild boar statue to my left the only real appealing thing inside.
Across from us is the East River, and I step closer, captivated by the way the city skyline reflects off the surface. A massive bridge stretches horizontally over the body of water, connecting Manhattan to Queens—which I only know because I studied the boroughs excessively before this trip.
My shins meet the concrete barrier between myself and the river, and I let out a wistful sigh.
“It’s beautiful,” I say softly. Reverently, as if my compliment might upset the water.
Aiden steps up beside me, resting his free hand on the rail next to where mine is curled around it. I feel his eyes on me, hot where they try to penetrate deeper, but I refuse to turn my head and get sucked in.
“Yeah,” he says, the one word laced with such tenderness to it that I ache between my thighs in a way I never have before.
I clear my throat, tension coiling in my stomach. “Do you do this kind of thing often? Bid on girls and take them on crazy dates?”
“Never. I don’t really…” He sighs, slipping his hand into his back jean pocket. “My life is very carefully coordinated, and for good reason. I don’t usually deviate, because I’m a creature of habit. Most artists are, because it helps keep the creativity flowing when you don’t have to put a lot of work into changing everyday shit up. I truly don’t remember the last time I ventured off on my own like this.”
“So, what? You saw me throwing a pity party and decided we should celebrate elsewhere?”
He cocks his head to the side, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You were the only one there tonight who didn’t look like they wanted to be there. Everyone in my life, in the entertainment industry... we’re all snakes. Everyone wants something. Your honesty is refreshing.”
Trying not to focus on the fact that he said we, I grip the railing tighter.
I don’t know what strange force has led me here tonight, or why it feels as though my world is spinning off its axis and I’m being hurtled toward the sun.
But for right now, I want to stay here.
At least for a little while.
7
“Oh, my god.”
Swallowing hard, I steal a look at the blonde beside me. She’s got one arm hooked over the armrest, staring out at the river as she bites into a strawberry bagel.
Satisfaction softens her features, and I’m once again struggling to keep my dick down as she moans into the bread.
“I’m gonna need to know your name if you’re gonna keep making sounds like that.”
Her eyes widen, her head whipping in my direction. “What sounds?”
My mouth falls open a little, the urge to ask if she’s a virgin in the literal sense flaring on the tip of my tongue. I don’t think it’d surprise me either way, but the idea of her being untouched sends a renewed spike of pleasure down my spine.
“Nothing,” I mutter instead, leaning back on the metal bench.
She kicks her legs out, taking another bite as she quickly redirects her attention. I can’t help noticing how different she seems, now that she’s in normal clothes.
Can’t help noticing how good she looks in mine.
My mind flickers back to when I caught her at the dry cleaners, the way her body stiffened, yet somehow still perfectly molded into me.
If she were any other girl in the world, my guess is that I’d have already bent her over and had my way in whatever dark alcove we deemed appropriate. I don’t ever do that kind of thing with fans, too worried about the potential repercussions my father’s always warned me about, but something tethers me here with her.
This girl’s skittish. Constantly looking over her shoulder, as if anticipating an attack. It hits close to home, and I find that her fear intrigues me.
It feels like a game, and I’m racing toward victory as I try to uncover what she’s afraid of.
Deep down, a sick feeling bubbles up, soaking in her terror.
I want it to be me.