Undressed Read online

  Perfect.

  I’d only hoped the angry little brown-eyed girl had taken the hint when I’d given her the brush off. But the second Mona was gone, she was there again, this time shouting something about her keys or some shit.

  That’s when it hit me: Brown Eyes had no clue about my past. Lucas told me you had my keys.

  She was the new tenant in the vacant beach house. The only reason she’d called me Billy in the first place was because Lucas couldn’t let the past die.

  I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t that guy anymore and none of that old shit mattered now.

  Still, it stirred up old memories, and I’d needed a second to get myself back under control. That was when I heard the bell, and realized she had no idea what it meant.

  A slow smile fell over my lips. I might not be able to hit her—or even Lucas—for dredging up ancient history the way she had, but there were other ways to make her pay.

  Ones I might enjoy even more.

  LAUREN

  Before I could demand my keys again, the entire bar erupted into earsplitting cheers. I was suddenly being grabbed and pushed and pulled from every angle.

  When I was lifted off the ground, I instinctively struggled to escape, floundering against those who held me. But that only lasted a second or two before I was dumped on the bar.

  My hands found the edge and I braced myself, ready to hop back down when I heard the first person cry out, “Body shot!”

  What the hell?

  The battle cry was quickly followed by another and another and another, until everyone was chanting the two-word phrase.

  I searched for help, trying to locate Emerson or Lucas in the crowd in hopes that one of them might be able to fill me in on what the hell was happening. But they were lost in the swarm of faces and waving arms.

  The other bartender—the girl with the flawless skin and dark curls—tapped my shoulder, forcing me to twist around on the countertop. “Pick someone else. Bartenders are off limits.”

  “What . . .” I stammered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You picked Will. When you rang the bell.” She said it like the answer was obvious and I was being intentionally dense.

  Will appeared beside the dark-haired bartender then, wiping his hands on a dish towel and wearing a smug expression. From this close, and from this angle, I could see just how green his eyes were, and when he spoke I saw the spark of something sly and playful buried there. “It’s okay, Crystian. I think I can make an exception, just this once.”

  His words made the crowd go even wilder.

  Crystian shrugged and uncapped a bottle of Cuervo, lifting her eyebrow at me. “This’ll be a whole lot easier if you lie down, honey.”

  “I don’t know what you think I agreed to, but I’m not doing a body shot! This is all a big misunderstanding,” I insisted as I tried to wiggle off the countertop again, but several pairs of hands shoved me back in place.

  Will took a step closer and winked at me knowingly, making me want nothing more than to smack that taunting expression off his face. “You were the one who rang the bell. I don’t make the rules.”

  It finally sank in as I realized exactly what this was—different bar, same game. In Tempe, it had been some hot waitress wearing a giant sombrero for the night and calling herself “Tequila Tina.” She’d go around the bar offering body shots for a dollar. She would pull tequila from a holster slung around her waist and the crowd would react like they were about to witness a shootout at the O.K. Corral.

  Here, it was a brass bell—got it.

  Will dangled a set of keys—my keys, presumably—defiantly in front of my face, a small smirk tugging the corners of his lips. Was I supposed to swat at them like a playful kitten? Grovel and beg and hope he’d take mercy on me, then thank him for not making me do the body shot? Maybe slick my tongue around my lips the way Lick Lipper had?

  He was a real piece of work.

  When I didn’t make a move toward them, he tossed them on the counter, the challenge fading from his face. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t gonna make you do it. It was my job to hang on to them till you got here. Just take ’em and go.”

  I heard several jeers, but that wasn’t what made me change my mind. The old me would’ve walked away—Arizona Lauren. Denver Lauren, for sure.

  But this was California Lauren he was challenging.

  This Lauren wouldn’t back down. This was my do-over. Maybe this Lauren would be more like Lola Bang. More like the brunette bartender who didn’t take any crap, and didn’t give change from a twenty.

  “No way,” I said, taking a breath. “I rang the bell . . .”

  One of Will’s eyebrows jerked up. “You sure? No shame in admitting you’re in over your head.”

  “Over my head? You sure think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you?” I asked pointedly, trying not to let it show that my heart was pounding like crazy. It was just a body shot, no big deal.

  Whoops and whistles erupted through the throng of people, and I swore my cheeks were going to burst into flames. Will grinned, running his hand through already tousled hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He couldn’t seem to help the appeal that oozed from him, and I told myself it was nerves that made my belly quiver and definitely not his broad shoulders as he spread his arms wide and leaned forward against the counter.

  Cursing under my breath, I lay back, stretching out on the bar. I was determined to get this whole disaster over with. I lifted the bottom of my Grateful Dead T-shirt up to my bra, exposing my belly, while Crystian slipped a slice of lime between my teeth for me to hold. I’d watched enough of these at ASU to know the drill.

  When Will’s face appeared above me, I squeezed my eyes shut. I refused to let him see that even though I thought he was a complete ass, I couldn’t suppress the shiver of anticipation that started in the pit of my stomach and slithered even lower the moment he was leaning over the top of me.

  My breath caught in the back of my throat as his hands fell on either side of my rib cage and his wrists brushed against the bare skin of my abdomen. I nearly leapt off the countertop when the first drops of tequila poured into my navel, but somehow I managed to keep my eyes shut.

  It was his breathy chuckle that made me risk a quick peek. And when I did, he was staring directly at me, his emerald-colored eyes locking onto mine in a challenge. That was right before he drew my hair aside so he could sprinkle salt along the side of my neck.

  He dropped low, the tip of his tongue sliding from just below my ear to the base of my neck, and I wondered if he could feel how furiously my pulse was beating beneath his touch. He took his time collecting the salt, his tongue searching out each grain and making me squirm inside my own skin.

  When he finally lifted his head, he stared down at me, studying me intensely as if he was trying to gauge my reaction. I kept my expression as wooden as I could, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how affected I really was.

  His insistent lips dropped low then, closing around my belly button, and his tongue, which had only seconds ago been exploring my neck, dove expertly into the pool of liquor awaiting him. Jolts of electricity blazed through my entire body.

  I fisted my hands at my sides as the bar around us went utterly silent.

  I wanted to tell him he was doing this body shot thing all wrong. It was supposed to be done fast—salt, tequila, lime. One, two, three.

  Rapid fire.

  Not this leisurely investigation of my body. But I was convinced that if I tried to talk the words would get caught behind the massive lump clogging my throat.

  The suction of his mouth made me shudder, and despite myself my body betrayed me. Fiery tendrils unfolded, and as he lapped at the tequila, drinking it up, I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if his mouth moved lower . . . lower . . . lower . . .

  As if punctuating the fact he was finished, he nipped at my skin, making me jump, and goose bumps broke out o
ver every inch of me. Then he dragged his body upward along the contours of my own, ensuring I could feel every single muscle of his chest brushing across me until his mouth was exactly in line with mine.

  When his teeth clamped onto the lime between my teeth, he didn’t let go. Instead, his lips stayed pressed there, and our breath mingled until I could taste the tequila he’d just lapped from my skin.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, and, with a small gasp, released the lime. It took more effort than it should have to force myself to look away from him as I rolled onto my side and out from beneath him altogether. I tugged the hem of my shirt down again as I hopped off the bar, and when I did, I was met by rounds of applause and catcalls and shouts for more, more . . . more!

  “I did it,” I announced breathlessly, holding my hand out as steadily as I could toward him, ignoring the outbursts at my back. “I held up my end.”

  Will pinched the lime, which was still between his teeth, squeezing the rest of the juice into his mouth before chucking it away. “That you did,” he conceded. And then he grabbed the keys and tossed them to me.

  My gaze dropped to the small silver keys in my palm.

  This was what $10,000 had bought me: freedom. An entire summer to get my head straight, away from my parents and their well laid plans.

  An escape from what had happened back in Arizona.

  I spun on my heel.

  “Hey!” Will called after me. “Don’t I get a thank-you?”

  Not a chance. But I did manage to restrain myself from flipping him off. And when Emerson finally caught up with me out in the parking lot, she was panting from running to keep up with me.

  “Never saw you do that before.” Em grinned and bumped my shoulder with hers.

  I sighed and bumped her back. “Yeah? Well, think about it. I’ve done worse.”

  WILL

  I crept in carefully and slid the deadbolt in place, listening to see if Tess had waited up for me. When she didn’t call out, I figured she’d crashed for the night.

  As quietly as possible, I set my keys on the counter and went to check on her. She was in the same place she’d been every night this week, curled up on the couch, probably pissed that I hadn’t bothered letting her know how late I’d be working.

  I thought about waking her so she wouldn’t have to sleep there all night, or at least tucking a blanket around her—things that might, in some small way, make up for not being a better communicator. Instead, though, I went to my room and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to strip out of my dirty clothes, which reeked of beer and tequila.

  A body shot.

  One fucking body shot, that’s all it had been. So why was my dick still hard?

  Because of those innocent brown eyes. And that vanilla scented skin. And the sound she’d made deep in her throat that was part whimper and part gasp that made me want to yank her jeans down right then and there so I could thrust myself deep inside her.

  With an entire bar full of people watching.

  What kind of an asshole even thinks shit like that?

  This one, that’s who.

  And now . . .

  Now here I was still thinking about what she’d feel like.

  But let’s be honest, I doubt there was another dude on this planet who wouldn’t wonder what she was hiding beneath that Grateful Dead tee of hers.

  She made me want to forget about not pissing in the pot I drank from.

  If only I didn’t have Tess.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about the brown-eyed girl at all. This was where I belonged.

  Home. Concentrating on Tess and my obligations, and how I would be better from now on. I promised her I’d act like a grown-up now that I was back home.

  I crammed my fists in my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. This wasn’t the way I’d planned my life.

  Man, sometimes life sucked.

  I had to get the brown-eyed girl out of my head and wrap my brain around the way things had to be. I wasn’t going to have her. Hell, I didn’t even deserve her. I had to stay focused on Tess and sorting shit out at home.

  Getting up, I went back to the couch and brushed aside the silken strands of sun-streaked hair that hung in Tess’s face. I shook her awake gently. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

  LAUREN

  Morning came way too fast.

  I tiptoed out of my bedroom, trying not to trip over the suitcases and boxes Emerson and I had lugged in from the car last night. We’d only brought what we needed for the summer, leaving everything else in storage back in Arizona.

  Em and I had moved out of the dorms to share an apartment during our sophomore year, and by comparison our old place had been palatial compared to our new summer digs. But at least our summer bungalow came “furnished,” which apparently meant we got a lumpy futon, a couple of squeaky twin beds, and a white plastic patio set that passed for a kitchen table.

  But at least the sketchy-looking AC unit hadn’t broken down overnight, and we’d discovered a working coffee machine in the kitchen. What more could a girl ask for?

  I stubbed my toe on one entire box marked “makeup” in pink glitter marker (three guesses who that belonged to), and bit back a low howl that bubbled up from my throat.

  I probably didn’t need to be quiet. Emerson slept like the dead and was probably still comatose after staying up late revising her Christmas wish list to include “Lucas and his superfine abs.” After all, she told me, giggling as we downed most of the bottle of warm champagne to commemorate our first night in our new place, she didn’t want Santa to get confused and send her a boy with just “ordinary abs.”

  I dragged one of the plastic chairs over and climbed up onto it, hoping it wouldn’t buckle beneath me. This was the perfect time to double-check the duffle bag I’d hidden away in the small attic when Em hadn’t been looking. I felt the weight in my chest lighten, the way it always did whenever I laid eyes on the bag and confirmed it was still safe.

  Eventually I’d need a better place to stash it, but for now the ceiling would have to do.

  I wondered if I would ever get used to all the hiding. Not just the money, but myself too.

  My entire life had changed the night my two worlds had collided, my online one and my real life, shattering the wall I’d carefully constructed between them.

  Until then, the whole thing had all felt like a game. A fantasy. Something that couldn’t really hurt me, or anyone I cared about.

  Afterward though . . .

  That’s when I realized the implications of what I’d been doing. Of the people who might be hurt if they ever discovered the truth.

  Like my parents.

  They would die if they knew I’d been taking off my clothes for money, even if I somehow managed to explain it wasn’t as seedy as they imagined. To them, it would never be the kind of “work” an ordinary suburban girl from Denver was supposed to be doing. Especially their daughter.

  They’d never understand that just because I was willing to peel off my sweater in front of a webcam, that didn’t make me easy. That I wasn’t a prostitute . . . despite some of the offers I’d received.

  I’d never even considered crossing that line. As far as my little stripping venture, I was strictly hands-off.

  That had been the whole point. That’s what had made it so easy for me—the anonymity. I’d gone to great lengths to make sure no one ever knew it was me in front of that camera.

  Or at least that’s what I’d believed . . . until one of my “clients” had landed on my doorstep.

  Before then, I’d even gone as far as using a VPN while I was at my local coffee shop to conduct all of my business transactions—banking, answering emails, accounting—hoping the IP address could never be traced back to me.

  What I hadn’t counted on was an obsessed viewer tracking me down anyway. Finding me at the coffee shop where I thought I’d been operating under the radar.

  I also hadn’t realized just how troubled he was.

  Maybe if I had,
I would’ve tried harder. Maybe I could have helped him.

  Maybe then he wouldn’t be dead now, and I wouldn’t be burdened with a sack full of cash.

  But I hadn’t . . . and I was.

  Now all I wanted was to put that part of my life behind me. To take the money and make a fresh start. To pretend that night had never happened, and hope there was no way anyone could ever, ever track me down.

  I’m safe. I told myself as I locked the front door behind me. No one—other than Em—even knows I’m here.

  I made sure my keys were tucked safely inside my bag before heading toward the beach that Emerson swore she’d spotted the day before. The beach I’d been fantasizing about ever since I was a little girl.

  It wasn’t far, and it wasn’t hard to find. I just followed the sound of the crashing waves. The salty smell was thick and practically tangible, and the second I stepped off the blacktop and my feet sank into the sand, I’d never been surer of my decision to leave my old life behind. The boys of California had nothing on the beaches.

  This was the place my dreams would finally come true. Now all I needed to do was learn how to swim.

  If only it were that simple. I had a lifetime of fears to overcome. My mom’s voice was in the back of my mind, telling me about tsunamis and sneaker waves and shark attacks.

  People do this every day, I told myself—regular people, little kids, the elderly. It wasn’t a big deal. I kept repeating those words in my head, right up until the moment I was ankle-deep in the very first waves I’d ever met.

  That was when the first whispers of true panic took hold.

  This is the freaking ocean.

  I’d been preparing for this moment for years. I’d seen a million pictures and watched a thousand YouTube videos and imagined of this moment all my life. But standing here realizing my plan had been to just . . . jump in and go for it! Suddenly I was questioning everything.

  But that was the thing, I sort of had to.