not been a choice. They wanted each other. Electricity crackled in the air whenever they were in the same room.
Well, I could be happy for them.
That’s what a good man would do. A gentleman, and I’ve worked so fucking hard to pretend that’s what I am. Until the liquor stripped my skin away. Until this girl sat beside me, asking which one broke my heart. She watches me with clear eyes, her gaze impossibly wise. What does she see?
“Both of them.”
A sympathetic sound that feels like a stroke to my cock.
She doesn’t look shocked that I fell for a man, even though it shocked the hell out of me. I questioned my sexuality, fought with it—lost myself to it. Wanting Harper did not diminish wanting Christopher.
There’s something worldly in that dark gaze. Any other day I would find out what.
Tonight, I don’t care. She isn’t a person with wants and dreams and needs of her own. I’m going to use her body the same way they used mine. I’m going to take what they took from me.
“Your name,” I say, though it doesn’t really matter.
“Ashleigh.” She sounds uncertain for the first time tonight, her name drawn out into two parts. Ash, like the soot in a fireplace. And leigh, leigh, leigh. She’s beautiful, and I’m wasted.
“Come here, Ashleigh.” Except I don’t give her a chance to come here. She might use it to leave, to disappear down that metal staircase where I can’t follow.
My hand wraps behind her neck, pulling her close. My lips are harsh against hers, hungry and hard. I want to punish her for the emptiness inside me, except when she makes a little sound of fright, it fills me up with something else. Pleasure like black velvet, the kind of darkness I want to stroke my fingers over, back and forth, to feel the fibers pull against me.
Her shuddery breaths are like water, and I drink and drink. My tongue slides against hers. It’s a graphic act, this kiss. More obscene than actual sex could be. More invasive as I push her head back and explore her mouth, not waiting for permission, not leaving any place untouched.
I must taste like whiskey, but she doesn’t pull away.
I’m the one who breaks the kiss, panting hard. Liquid dark eyes stare up at me.
Surprise. More than that. There’s outright shock in her expression. Is she younger than I thought? More innocent than anyone I ever met? I should ask her about sex, but those aren’t the words that come out of my mouth. “Have you ever been in love, Ashleigh?”
A slow shake of her head. “No,” she whispers.
“Good. That’s good.”
“I can pretend.”
“What?”
“For a hundred dollars.”
There’s a drum in my head, pounding, pounding, telling me I’ve got something wrong. Really wrong. “A hundred dollars,” I repeat, wishing my veins weren’t running hot with liquor.
“For an hour. I know how much that suit costs. You can afford it.”
I pull back, moving careful so I don’t tip over. “What are you talking about?”
A cool breeze skates over us, and she shivers. I want to comfort her, but that’s not what this is about. A fast fuck on an abandoned rooftop while the sounds of a massive block party bounce off the buildings around us. And a hundred dollars, apparently. Jesus. I was about to fuck a prostitute.
What’s worse is that I still want to do it. More, because I know she’ll let me do anything.
For a price.
I fumble for my wallet, and she tenses. Maybe it’s her first time selling that sweet little body? Except that worldliness in her eyes… it’s not the first time. My cock is rock hard in my slacks. I pull out the wad of cash that’s inside and press it into her hand without saying a word. A few hundred, I think. “Take it.”
I want to use this girl, but I’m not going to use her like this.
She scoots herself back, only an inch. There’s shame on her face. And hurt, like maybe this rejection matters even though I gave her money.
“I should go,” she says, not quite meeting my eyes.
“This roof’s taken,” I remind her, gently this time.
I don’t tell her to fuck off again, but she gets the message. She scrambles to the edge of the roof and throws her leg over without looking back, taking the money with her. I watch the shadow of her ass in the moonlight, the same way a predator might watch its prey scamper off on a hot Sahara day. Sometimes it’s too much trouble to catch something to eat, sometimes survival is more trouble than it’s worth. I could have had her for a hundred dollars.
A faint scratch of metal against concrete, and then she’s gone.
Back into the seething mass of partygoers, the ocean of joy that I can’t join. I’m stuck on this island, and for maybe the first time, I’m glad of it. What I wanted with her wasn’t good or clean. It wasn’t kind.
The scaffolding where Harper and Christopher had stood is empty. The people around it still do their ritual dance, but the gods are no longer listening. Having sex, that’s what the gods are doing now. I can’t see them, but I know it as surely as I feel the bass reverberate through the old building holding me up. I can imagine Harper’s red lips and Christopher’s dark eyes. There is no girl to use. Ashleigh. Ash. Leigh. I pick up the empty bottle of Jim Beam, the proof that I’m no better than my daddy, and throw it against the ledge of the roof, watch it shatter into a million sharp glittering pieces.
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Books by Skye Warren
Endgame Trilogy & more book in Tanglewood
The Pawn
The Knight
The Castle
The King
The Queen
Escort
Survival of the Richest
The Evolution of Man
The Bishop
Mating Theory
North Security Trilogy & more North brothers
Overture
Concerto
Sonata
Audition
Chicago Underground series
Rough
Hard
Fierce
Wild
Dirty
Secret
Sweet
Deep
Stripped series
Tough Love
Love the Way You Lie
Better When It Hurts
Even Better
Pretty When You Cry
Caught for Christmas
Hold You Against Me
To the Ends of the Earth
Standalone Dangerous Romance
Wanderlust
On the Way Home
Hear Me
For a complete listing of Skye Warren books, visit
About the Author
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance such as the Endgame trilogy. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
Caught Between Two Billionaires © 2020 by Skye Warren
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