Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (2 page)

I’m not his.

He’s not mine.

Yet we own each other.

I felt awful, something I always felt when H steered our conversations down that particular path. I knew he wanted more. I just couldn’t be anything else to him than what I already was.

We owned each other … to an extent. We were like magnets, and I didn’t know when it had happened … when I first crossed the line. But I had, and I couldn’t retract it. And to be honest, I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t label what we shared a mistake, because it felt right just as much as it felt wrong.

Sliding my phone into my pocket, I grabbed my hand luggage and continued on to baggage claim. I had to temporarily erase him from my head, something I should be quite accomplished at doing by now, yet I wasn’t. He was always there, always flittering across the recesses of my mind. Always taunting me because I didn’t know what to do with him.

Em, snap out of it and keep walking.

I obeyed my inner self and increased my pace. In mere minutes I’d see Cori. She didn’t know about H. No one did. He was my well-kept secret, a part of me I wasn’t sure I could ever
reveal.

He was my little white lie.

Well … a portion of it.

Willing the thought of him to blow away with the swish of the automatic glass exit doors as they swung open, I stepped through and headed for carousel three, craning my neck to try and spot a familiar blonde head. I honestly couldn’t wait to see Cori and her new guy, Josh, because it was my duty as a BFF to assess whether or not he was worthy.

He probably wasn’t.

They never were.

At least not to begin with.

And anyway, from what Cori had relayed of their relationship thus far, my verdict was still out. Apparently he was a man-slut: an extremely sexy, dirty, aggravating man-slut, which was definitely not the type of guy Cori was normally attracted to. In fact, she generally despised men like him, hence my doubt and uncertainty—and my readiness to kick him in the balls if required.

Lucky for him, I was exceptionally open-minded and never assumed or judged a person based on another’s opinion. That was just stupid. The opinions of others lacked authenticity and could never be exclusive.

To be honest, Cori and Josh’s dynamic intrigued me, as it wasn’t everyday that your ‘hopeless romantic’ best friend toured with Australia’s leading male revue show as their official photographer, and then ended up sleeping with the star man-slut performer.

Yeah … Josh was a stripper.

A very sought-after stripper.

How Cori landed this awesome job was actually a funny story. Well, not for her brother, Tom. He was in hospital, so it wasn’t funny for him. But for Cori, yep … it was funny stuff. You see, she didn’t normally photograph people, especially near-naked people. She was a scenic photographer. She took photos of things that didn’t breathe, let alone dance and dry-hump people. So when Tom—the original tour photographer—broke his hip in a motorbike accident, and because Cori was his business partner, she had no choice but to take his place on the tour.

Poor Cori.
Pfft. Please!

Clearly, my sympathy for her was non-existent. I mean, give me a camera and I’d be more than happy to take photos of those men in their native habitat. I would endure the abs, biceps, thighs and bare arses. I would endure it in the name of professionalism.

What am I saying? I’d endure it in the name of being a woman with a hungry vagina.

Anyway, from what Cori had told me over the phone, she’d had one hell of a month on tour.

And not in a good way.

In a bad way.

In an
opposites attract
kind of way.

Apparently, her and Josh clashed … all the time. They fought … all the time. And they made up … all the time, which was where I came into the picture. Why? Because I could put Cori on the straight and narrow …
all the time.
I could sort out the jumbled mess she thought she was in when, more often than not, she wasn’t that messy to begin with. Cori only ever thought she was messy. And, just quietly, as a roommate, she was.
I mean, how hard is it to put the fucking dishes in the dishwasher? It’s seriously not that hard.

Dishes and messy roommate aside, Cori was a worrywart when it came to herself. And because the revue was having a five-day break, she’d summoned me to join her in order to restore balance and good juju in her life.

I was her relationship whisperer.
How ironic.

Falling in step
with a tall brunette on one side of me, and a real-life Barbie doll on the other, I admired Barbie’s fake boobs as we walked to the baggage carousel. They didn’t bounce like real boobs bounced, but that didn’t matter to me. I’d always wanted bigger boobs, because mine were less than adequate—a con of being a dancer from such a young age. Due to my current profession as a theatre performer, I was extremely fit and had next to no body fat, which also meant no boobs.

Oh well, one day … maybe.

The click of heels drew my attention from Barbie’s rack to the brunette’s legs, which were striding underneath an A-line pinstriped skirt. She looked great in her business attire. Powerful. Confident. Fierce. I looked scruffy in my get-up—denim shorts, white crochet top, and flip-flops. Not that I was complaining. What I was wearing was a nice change from my normal workout gear, not to mention I was decked out for the beach.
Seriously, sun, sand and lifeguards, come at me!

Feeling even more eager to hit the beautiful white sands of Surfers Paradise, I looked up and spotted Cori walking toward me. I smiled.
God, I missed her.
Home just wasn’t home when she was gone. She was a part of me, of my life, and had been for eleven years. We’d met in high school and then studied together at the Victorian College of the Arts. Plus, she always did the food shopping and paid the bills. And I hated doing the food shopping and paying the bills.

Breathing in, I let out “Coriiiiii!” in a cappella.

She ran.

I ran.

She hugged.

I hugged back.

Then we both jumped up and down and held hands like a couple of schoolgirls.

“Oh my God, Em, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” she murmured, her arms squeezing me like a freakin’ boa constrictor. “It’s such a cock-forest on this tour. Too many men is never a good thing.”

I laughed. “Glad I could come and plant my vagina in this forest you speak of.”

“Oh, you have no idea how welcome your vagina is.” She pulled away and placed her hands on my shoulders, smiling brightly. “Come on. I want you to meet some people.”

My eyes lit up. “Camera-smasher Josh?”

Her eyes lit up, too. “Yes, and SurferBrad.”

Linking arms, she directed me to a table where two guys stood up, one of them smoothing down his shoulder-length blond hair.
Holy fucking hot guy who looks like Fabio, except super hot!

“Brad, this is my best friend, Em. Em, this is Brad,” she said, gesturing to the sun-kissed sex god.

I released my arm from hers with the speed of light and held my hand out to him. “Pleasure to meet you, Brad.” I smiled and faced my palm downward, wanting Sex God to place his luscious lips on the top of my hand. Actually, he could grab it and put it down his pants if he wanted to. I totally wouldn’t be opposed to that
at all
.

Brad didn’t hesitate and kissed my offered hand, searing me with devilish eyes in the process. “Pleasure is all mine. Can I get your suitcase for you?”

My suitcase!
“Oh shit! My other suitcase,” I screeched, taking off and running toward the carousel. My checked case had one of my prized possessions in it—my BOB. BOB couldn’t be left behind. No BOB could
ever
be left behind. Mind you, if Brad was single—and I hoped he was—BOB could probably take some time off.

“So what’s in the case? Gold?” he asked, stopping beside me as I scanned the multitude of luggage slowly passing us by.

I laughed. “Better than gold.”

“Yeah? What’s better than gold? Chocolate?”

I glanced out the corner of my eye at him, because what I was about to say was sure to elicit a surprised reaction. After all, it’s not the ‘norm’ to talk about sex toys with someone you just met … unless they worked at a sex-toy shop, then that would totally be the ‘norm’. “My vibrator, that’s what.”

His cheeks reddened, and call me evil, but I liked making men feel awkward with my sexual openness. Again, it was empowering, and their response was always rather cute.

“Vibrator? Well, best we get your suitcase to safety as soon as possible then. What colour is it?”

“My vibrator? BOB is pink.”

“Not BOB.” He chuckled. “Your suitcase.”

Huh … impressive.
His dismissal of my temerity made me smile. I liked a challenge, and Brad was shaping up to be just that.

“Ahh … right. It’s over there!” I said, pointing to the turquoise case. “It’s the blue one.”

“Onto it.” He bounded off like a playful puppy playing fetch, and I couldn’t help but giggle. He was hot and adorable—my two favourite things, sans Tim Tams.

Watching him bend over and retrieve my case from the carousel, the sight of his navy boardshorts now snug against his arse had me biting my bottom lip.
Mmm. Yummy.

I was a self-confessed arse girl.

Loved butts.

Loved everything about butts.

Rounded balls of muscle and flesh I could grab and sink my teeth into.

Yeah … loved them.

“Is this the only one you have?” he asked, as he wheeled it toward me.
Yep, but feel free to remove everyone else’s cases while I sit back and watch.

I nodded and bit back a cheeky smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He kept hold of the handle and gestured that we should walk back to where we left Cori and Josh. “After you,” he offered.
A gentleman, too! Nice.

Brad had definitely held my attention in the mere minutes we’d been together. He was a cocktail of fun, chivalry and sex, yet he also held an air of arrogance and control. And I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t easily drink those ingredients and get drunk, very drunk, because I could. And I wanted to.

Oh I will.

Cori and Josh were performing deep-throat exploration with each other’s tongues as we approached them. “You two done sucking face?” I asked, interrupting their snog-fest and holding my hand out to Josh, this time keeping it vertical for shaking purposes. “Hi, I’m Em, Cori’s best friend.”

“Hi, I’m Josh, Cori’s …” Josh hesitated and gave Cori an unsure, nervous glance.

“Boyfriend,” she answered.

“Yeah, boyfriend,” he repeated. “I’m Cori’s boyfriend.”

Hmm. That was … interesting.

I raised my eyebrow and looked him straight in the eye. “You’re Camera-smasher Josh. I’ve heard all about you.”

Josh’s expression turned to one of shame, and so it should’ve. He’d been a bad boy during his and Cori’s very first encounter. Actually, he’d been the biggest jerkoff of all time, mistaking her for paparazzi and smashing her expensive camera as a result.

She’d forgiven him. Obviously.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” Brad said with a laugh while draping his arm over my shoulder and nodding in my direction. 

I inwardly applauded his brash move
and looked down at his dangling hand, my eyes widening in delight. “Why, Brad, that hand of yours is rather large.”

Cori face-palmed.

Josh scoffed.

And Brad nodded proudly. “Yep. Definitely keeping this one.”

Damn, he’s good.

Challenge accepted.

***

Standing in Cori’s hotel room, I swivelled on the spot and admired my surroundings. This short break in paradise was just what I needed. I’d been a little down as of late due to the production I was currently performing in being temporarily postponed because ‘legal issues’—those issues kept under wraps by the production company. Apparently, the cast and crew were on a need-to-know basis, and we ‘didn’t need to know’ anything beyond the fact that we were all on a short-term break. I wasn’t overly concerned at this point, because things like this happened in showbiz all the time. That said, I’d be lying if I said morale around the theatre wasn’t at an all-time low, because it was. We were performers, and we wanted to perform for an audience under lights. Not in an empty theatre with the faux visions of faces fillings the shadows in front of us. So yeah, this beach escape was more than welcome. It was going to be the distraction I needed.