Good Girl Gone (The Reed Brothers 7)

“This place is swanky,” she says, looking around the lobby.

“Nothing but the best for you, Star.” I cup my hands around my mouth and whisper, “Just wait till you see the selection of porn I brought with me.”

She giggles and her cheeks turn red. The guy behind the counter looks at her, even after she steps out of the way. She jerks her thumb toward me and he finally notices me. “May I help you, sir?” he says.

Star wanders around the hotel lobby while I check us in. She’s so fucking pretty with her hair rolled up in a messy knot. One leg of her pants is pushed up over her calf, and I remember her raising it to scratch an itch when she was in the car. She hasn’t pulled it back down yet.

“She looks like…” the clerk says. But then he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

I’m guessing Star doesn’t want anyone to find out who she is. When she and her sisters are together, they get mobbed by fans who want a piece of their clothing or a lock of their hair. Frantic fans are not opposed to jerking the hair right out of their heads.

“She’s not,” I say.

He looks at me and raises his brow.

“She gets that all the time,” I tell him, forcing out a fake laugh. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

He gets us checked in, and then he sends a bellhop up with our luggage. “Did you make a wish?” I ask Star when I find her beside a fountain.

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

I reach into my pocket and take out a quarter. “I believe enough for both of us.” I pass her the quarter.

She takes it, her hand hesitant. “So, how does it work?”

“Close your eyes really tight and wish for your heart’s desire.”

She closes her eyes, pinching them closed, her brows furrowing. She opens one eye. “Am I doing this right?”

“Make the wish and throw the fucking quarter,” I pretend to growl.

She mouths something really quietly, and I wish I could read lips so I’d know what her heart’s desire might be. But I have no idea. She tosses the quarter into the air and it goes plop into the water.

She looks at me skeptically. “That’s it? That’s all it is?”

“Did you expect a genie and smoke and shit?”

She throws her hands up. “Well, yeah! Or at least some whimsical music.”

I start to hum the theme from The Twilight Zone and she punches me on the shoulder.

“You don’t have to get violent,” I tell her. I pretend to be wounded, rubbing at my arm.

“I’ll kiss it and make it better,” she tells me, and blows me a kiss across the palm of her hand.

I go hard immediately. “We had better get to the room.” I turn toward the elevator and push my way toward it.

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

I waggle my brows at her. “Because you just promised to kiss something of mine, and I’d like to be in the room when you do it.”

“Oh,” she breathes. Then she smiles at me.

We go into the room and she stops when she sees there’s only one bed. “Is it okay?” I ask.

She nods. It’s a quick jerk.

“I can get you a separate room, if you want.”

“I’d rather sleep with you,” she says quietly.

“I’d rather you sleep with me, too.” She hides her face in her arm and goes to look at the bathroom.

“There’s a Jacuzzi,” she says.

“You want to use it?” I hold my breath.

“Maybe,” she says softly.

My heart jumps. I didn’t start this with any expectations aside from getting here and closing some doors to my past that I left open once upon a time.

“You want to use it with me?” I ask. I hold my breath again.

“Maybe,” she says again.

She falls back onto the bed and covers her eyes with her bent arm.

“I’m not very good at this kind of thing,” she says. Her voice is muffled by her arm. “I might be really bad at it.”

“I haven’t had sex since I was sixteen, so I’m probably worse.” God, it hurts to say that out loud.

“I’ve never done it on purpose.” She blows out a breath.

“What?”

She sits up, leaning on her elbows. “I kind of lied. I told you I never met a dick I liked. And that I’ve met my share. I lied.” Her brown eyes meet mine. “I lied. I’m sorry.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the only intimacy I’ve ever known is intimacy that was forced on me. Against my will.” She blows out a breath.

“But I thought you said—”

She cuts me off. “I lied. Even my parents think that I sleep around. I don’t want them to know that the very idea of sex scares me.” She shrugs. “So I let them think it.”

“So you’ve never…”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I toy with a string on the bedspread while I try to put my thoughts together. I can’t think of a damn thing to say that won’t sound stupid. “You want to go swimming?” I ask.

She sits up all the way. “Swimming?”

“There’s a pool.” I roll to the window and point. I saw it on the way in. It has handicapped lifts. And it’s in a sunroom-type enclosure, so it should be warm.

“You can swim?”