The Position 3 by Izzy Mason

Author:Izzy Mason [Mason, Izzy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Palm Tree Press
Published: 2015-04-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Weirdly, I don’t want to sleep with Chance. He’s the living incarnation of hotness. He’s one of the most famous men alive. His body feels amazing pressed up against me, with all its muscular perfection. But I feel no chemistry with him. No spark. I realize I’m just putting on a big act to show Lazarus I don’t care about him. To show him that I could land a movie star. Now I’m caught up in the act and I can’t stop.

“Where to?” I ask, making my voice husky and confident.

He smiles down at me. It’s a surreal moment. His face is so familiar. Everyone knows that face. But it happens to be tilted toward me, taking me in. It’s bizarre.

“The scene of the crime, of course.”

“The scene of the crime? What crime?”

“Your brilliant presentation.” He rubs his nose along my neck and inhales my scent. “I’ll even get back in my work clothes for you.” He exhales loudly and, without warning, lets go of my waist and grabs my hand. Without even waiting for a response, he starts to pull me across the dance floor toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

I don’t want to go, but I can’t bring myself to stop him. Instead I allow myself to be led along like a rag doll. We barrel through the VIP door and straight through the thrumming masses in the club. Several people recognize Chance as we go, but he doesn’t pause long enough to be bothered.

Before I know it, we’re on the street. The blast of air makes me shiver and clears what’s left of the wine buzz from my head. Chance walks at a fast clip, hardly turning to look at me. Then suddenly, he stops.

“Tell me about the butterflies again.”

“The butterflies? For your club?”

“Tell me like you did in the presentation. In my room. Say it again.” He gazes down at me, his chest rising and falling quickly, as if he’d been running fast.

I stare at him, baffled. “I…uh… Well, the color and natural flight patterns of the butterflies will create an ethereal and other-worldly atmosphere. An amalgamation of the energy of nightlife and the sublimity of nature…”

“Oh, Jesus.” He pulls me into a recessed doorway and puts his hands on my breasts. “You are the hottest chick… Oh, my God. Say it again.”

He roughly kneads at my breasts, his breaths turning into savage caveman grunts. His lips find my neck, which he begins to lick. But instead of feeling sexy, it’s just slobbery and gross. I’m in a daze, not sure how to pull out of his grasp. I’ve led him on and now I want out.

“The…the natural…the natural…the color of and natural flight patterns…”

My head is swimming and I can’t get the words straight again. Just do it, I tell myself. Bed a celebrity. It’ll be a great story. An epic notch on my bedpost. I don’t have to be in love with every guy I sleep with. But I know it’s not that simple.

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