Neveah (Society Girls #2) Read online

  “Is everything okay, Dylan?”

  I force my eyes from her hips to her face, and see how nervous she looks. As some of the blood rushes north again, I see her shifting uneasily. “You look gorgeous, Nev.”

  “Thanks. You looked a little freaked out when you saw me. You wanna tell me about that?”

  God, I love this girl. Like. I like her. Shaking my head to clear it, I give her a classic “Dylan Gallagher” answer. “I thought it was a different kind of gun you wanted to touch tonight, but hey, we’re more than happy to oblige.”

  “Different gun? Seriously? You’re referring to…that…as a gun now?” she sputters, gesturing to my crotch.

  There’s no hiding my woody in these shorts. Not that I’d hide it anyway. Well, maybe for her. NO! Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Why not?”

  “I think I should leave.”

  She can’t leave. Not only will my puppet master kick my ass for it, but I want her to stay. “What? No. Please don’t go. I was just kidding around. I promise to behave.”

  “This is important to me, Dylan. Really, really important. I shouldn’t have put on this stupid dress or heels. I…never mind, it’s stupid. I have a bag in my car in case of emergencies. I can change.”

  She turns back to her car, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her cover up. “Don’t. I meant it when I said you look gorgeous. And I want to know what you think is too stupid to tell me.”

  “No. I—no.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” I say, pulling her to me and tangling one of my hands in her hair, while I wrap the other one around her waist.

  She plays with the collar of my t-shirt while avoiding my eyes. “I just. Damn it, I looked up the women you usually date. They have perfect hair, and sexy dresses, and heels. I’m not glamorous, but I wanted to try and look like the kind of girl you’d want tonight.”

  I’m in shock, like literally in shock right now. And it’s time for us to get some things straight. “Come on,” I tell her stepping back and grabbing one of her hands. “This is a conversation for inside, not my driveway.”

  I lead her inside and sit on one of my couches, pulling her down next to me. “We could just forget I said all of that.”

  “No,” I tell her, tipping her chin up. “I can’t forget. Are you paying attention?” she nods, and I continue. “First, I don’t date. Any woman you saw me with was either just for publicity, a friend with benefits I took somewhere, or an actress, model, or singer who I saw and wanted to fuck. Or who wanted to fuck me, so they had their agent call my agent. No dating.”

  “Got it, you don’t date. This is just…um…what is this?”

  How am I making this worse? “This,” I say, waving a hand between us,” is different than anything I have ever done before. Never doubt that.” She won’t doubt it soon, and I’m never doing anything like this again. “Moving on, you look hot no matter what. Glamour is overrated on many occasions.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m pretty sure you were in jeans when we were making out on this couch last night.”

  She shrugs. “You were slumming?”

  I cup her face and make sure her beautiful amber eyes are looking directly into mine. “Do not say that! Ever. You are…you’re fucking amazing, and smart, and funny…and better. You’re better than so many women I come across. Women who only want the MVP. I don’t feel like a baller when I’m with you.”

  “But are you playing me? Is this all a game to you?”

  I am, but I’m realizing more and more that it’s not. “What’s going on between us is real to me, Nev. So damn real.”

  “It’s real to me, too.”

  I lean in and kiss her, just a little kiss so she knows my words are true. I dodged one of her questions, and pretty soon she’s going to want to doubt everything I’m saying and doing. I need her to believe it’s not all part of the plan I’m bound to. I want to be here with her.

  * * *

  Neveah

  I kiss Dylan for several minutes before pulling back, and licking my lips. I love the taste of him, all masculine and sexy. I know it’s silly and romantic, both of which have no place here, but I can’t help it. I love the taste of Dylan.

  “I need to try and pick up the gun. And I’m not talking about the one in your pants, although I might do that one day.”

  “One day, but not today?”

  “I need to go slow, Dylan. I’m not a virgin, but your reputation scares me. You admitted you only sleep around. I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t do ‘friends with benefits’ or continued casual hookups. If you want one night, I can give that to you, but the only other option involves that dreaded ‘B’ word you don’t do.”

  I hold my breath as he searches my eyes. I’m not sure he’s going to say anything, and if I didn’t think he could help me with my gun problem, I’d get up and walk out. I don’t know why or how, but I know he can help me. So, I sit and wait for what seems like forever, but is probably only about a minute.

  “Neveah Ayoub,” he starts, swallowing hard, “will you be my girlfriend?”

  “I-I—are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “I’m sure,” he tells me without hesitation.

  “Then yes. I’ll be that…your girlfriend.”

  “There’s just one thing.”

  “What?” I ask, scared of the answer.

  “I think we should keep this just between us. For now, not forever,” he adds, no doubt seeing the tears that are forming in my eyes. “You already know I don’t have experience with being a boyfriend. I don’t want the added pressure of my sister, your friends, and hell, my mom.”

  “You’re not ashamed of me?”

  “God no, Nev. Never. I could never be ashamed of you. Please believe me.”

  “Okay. We can keep this quiet for now. I can’t—won’t—be a dirty little secret for anyone, but we can see how this goes before telling anyone.”

  “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

  “My standards are pretty high.”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me.”

  “I want flowers, and candles, sweet kisses, and I don’t know. You’ll think of some other things to romance me with.”

  “I will,” he agrees. “Are you ready to examine your first gift from me more closely?”

  “No, but I’m going to anyway.”

  He stands up and offers me his hand. I take it and walk into the kitchen with him. The gun is sitting exactly as I left it last night. That honestly makes me a little nervous, and it must show.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You left the box open. What if someone who worked for you touched it, or did something. I mean, I’m sure they’re trustworthy, but still.”

  “No one but me has been here today. I don’t have a full-time staff. This place is big, but I don’t use all of it. A cleaning crew comes in three times a week. They’ll be here tomorrow, so the gun will go in the safe downstairs tonight. Unless you take it home, that is.”

  “Let’s just take one thing at a time.”

  I make those final steps to the island, and brace my hands on either side of the box as I peer in. The gun hasn’t changed since I saw it at the gala, or since I saw it yesterday. It’s still a small pistol, probably a .22. It’s silver and it has orange fire opal inlays.

  “How long have you been actively trying to do this? Or have you been?”

  “I’ve tried to overcome my fear for a few years now, but I actively started trying last year, and then I immersed myself in all the info I could get starting about three months ago.”

  None of that is a lie, but it’s not the whole truth, either. I can’t tell him about the Society. If the dating thing works out, I may be able to one day, but I definitely can’t do that today. I’m not sure a relationship should be started with half-truths, and I know our secret almost caused Sierra to lose her boyfriend, Joel, but there’s nothing I can really do right now. I’ll just make sure to tell him ever
y other truth I can.

  In the meantime, I came here for a reason, and I’m going to pick up this gun. Even if it kills me, which could happen. My heart is racing, and I’m feeling a little light headed as I reach out tentatively with my right hand.

  I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS!

  I can’t do this, I realize as my hand freezes. I start to pull back, but Dylan’s hand comes to rest on top of mine. Not holding it, or forcing me forward, just resting on me, giving me his strength. His other hand moves my hair off one shoulder, and his mouth lands on my neck. I feel the soft ridges and the little rough patches where his lips are slightly chapped, as he runs them up and down my skin.

  “No pressure, Nev. You do it if it feels right. If it doesn’t, we try again tomorrow.”

  I could say it’s his mouth on my neck that makes me move my hand forward. Or that it’s his hand on mine. It could be those words of support. I honestly don’t know what makes me finally do it. I only know that I reach out and touch that gun. I run my fingers over it twice, and then I wrap my hand around it and pick it up.

  I grip it in my hand, keeping my hand off the trigger the way I’ve seen my friends, and my mentor, do. It feels so much lighter than I thought it would, almost insignificant. How can something so small cause so much harm? That thought has me fighting myself. I want to put it down, but yet I want to keep holding on. I want to be strong enough to hold onto it.

  “You’ve got this, sweetheart. You’re doing it.”

  I nod, knowing he’ll feel the motion since he’s still worshipping my neck. “I’m doing it.”

  I turn it over in my hand, feeling the weight and getting used to it. I was wrong about the caliber. I now see that it’s a .25 and not a .22. I bring my other hand up and spread my legs, getting into the stance I’ve been taught by Matt and Faith. Dylan’s lips stop moving on my neck, and I feel him straighten as both of his hands move to my arms.

  “That’s it,” he says as he rubs my arms.

  “I want to try and shoot it.”

  “Okay. My range is downstairs. I didn’t think you were ready to see it yesterday.”

  “I wasn’t, and I’m not now, either. I want to shoot this gun, but I can’t yet.”

  I lower my arms and place the gun back in the box. I have to wipe the sweat from my hands on my dress, which I know is not sexy at all, but it is what it is. “You were amazing right now. You are amazing. And hot. You looked so fucking hot right now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to grab us both a beer, and then I’m taking you back to that couch for part two of the evening.”

  “Hmm…yes, please. Maybe I’ll even put my hands on that other gun of yours after all.”

  “Who needs beer?” he asks, swooping me up into his arms and carrying me to the couch. It looks like this night is just going to keep getting better and better!

  Chapter 4

  Neveah

  “Okay, you need to spill,” Sierra tells me.

  “About?” I ask, pretending I don’t know, even as I smell the flowers that were just delivered for me. This is the third time in a week, and I keep saying I have no clue who is sending them.

  “If you don’t know who they’re from, I’ll just take them home with me,” Rhieve teases.

  “Touch them and die,” I practically growl.

  “You know you want to tell us,” Rose says.

  “Not yet.”

  “Is he a wanker? Asshole?” Jen asks, reverting back to her British slang even though she’s trying to keep with the American phrases.

  “No. He’s really nice. We just want to see how it’s going to play out before saying anything to our families and friends.”

  “As long as he’s not sending these to apologize for treating you badly,” Harlow adds.

  “He’s not. I promise. I wouldn’t let a guy mistreat me.”

  “And Matt would kill anyone who did,” Camari reminds me, not that I need to be reminded.

  “He would.”

  He won’t have to, though. Dylan has been nothing but perfect. I haven’t been down to the range yet, and I can’t go over to his place every night, but when I’m there, he helps me have the strength to hold the gun. Whether it’s more kisses on my neck, his hands cupping my breasts while I grip the gun, or just his words of encouragement, he’s always doing something. And it’s working. After a week, I’m getting more comfortable. I’m thinking of even asking him to take me down to the range when I go over there tonight. I’m not sure how I’ll handle it, but I want to try.

  Before I can do that, I have to go to a private fashion class with Stella. This is one of areas I’m not excelling at. I like pretty things, but putting outfits together so they look effortless, figuring out what the perfect outfit is for any given situation, and knowing one designer from another is not as easy as it sounds. I tend to just grab things that look like they match, causing Stella to roll her eyes before requesting that I try again.

  Today is no exception. I think the coral gown with the gold jewelry and heels looks fine, but apparently “fine” isn’t what we’re going for here. “Where are you going tonight?” Stella asks me.

  “What?” I ask her back, freaking out a little. Does she know?

  “I’ve seen the flowers, and it’s a Friday night. I’m guessing and assuming and all that shit, but I think you have a date.”

  “Oh, um, yeah. We’re just hanging out at his place.”

  “Flowers for fucking are some guys’ style. Is it that, or are you going to be talking, too?”

  “We talk.”

  “Help me out here. Just a little.”

  “We’re going to eat, watch a movie or talk, and then make-out,” I tell her, purposely leaving out what else we’ll be doing.

  “Just making out? No hot sex?”

  “We haven’t yet, but maybe soon.” This is getting more embarrassing by the second.

  “Don’t you dare get embarrassed about sex. You are a single woman, and getting your freak on is only natural. You wouldn’t be blushing if you’d seen Tegan and me back in the day. Or actually, yeah, you’d probably still be blushing. Anyway, I think I’ve got it now.”

  She walks into the giant closet that takes up literally a quarter of the floor we’re on, and I can hear her moving hangers around. A minute or so later, she comes back out with an outfit and shoes. No jewelry is in her hands, and I can’t really see the clothes clearly yet.

  “Here we go. This white top is sleeveless and crosses over in both the front and the back. Easy access for wandering hands while he’s rounding second base. This skirt only has a slight flare, enough for his hands to reach under, but there’s not enough stretch for you to climb on for a ride. Don’t rip the skirt!” she instructs me, holding up the red, pink and white striped skirt with stripes that look more like paint than lines. “And then we have the strappy heels. I don’t know how tall your guy is, but these should put you at the right height for most flat surfaces that aren’t a couch or a bed. What do you think?”

  Whoa. “It’s perfect.”

  It really is, even for shooting, if I make it that far. The top is loose enough, but won’t get in the way. The skirt will allow me to stand correctly, and while I may have to take the shoes off in the range, I can definitely think of other places I’d like to wear them around Dylan’s house.

  “This is what I do, Nev. It’s what I’m trying to teach you how to do. See a situation, and find the perfect way for us to fit in. Or stand out if that’s what we need to do. I know some of you think what I do is frivolous, but I promise you it’s not.”

  “I don’t think what you do is frivolous.”

  “You just don’t think it’s as important as what everyone else in the Society does.”

  “I didn’t,” I admit. “I’ll put more effort into my lessons. I’m sorry. Things are just…hard.”

  “You’ll be comfortable enough to shoot a gun, Nev. I don’t doubt that. None of us doubt it.”<
br />
  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because you want to be one of us. Guns are a part of our life, even though some of us don’t use them often. You can choose other weapons most of the time, or just hand to hand fighting, but you have to know how to shoot a gun and be willing to use it if it comes to that.”

  “I’m starting to believe that I can.”

  “Then you will. Now go on and change into this awesome outfit I put together for you. We can do your hair and makeup after that. You can practice and I’ll give you tips.”

  “Thanks for your help, Stella.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she reminds me with a smile.

  * * *

  Dylan

  “Why has Neveah not been here for the past two nights?”

  “She has a lot of work to do for her training. She needed some study time.”

  “She told you this? She’s told you about the Society?”

  “Calm down. She hasn’t told me anything other than that she’s an intern for the Corrigan & Co. Foundation, and that training to become a full-time employee is intense and competitive.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe she felt comfortable enough to confide in you.”

  “You can’t expect her to tell me something like that after only knowing me for a couple of weeks. This is her life we’re talking about, or what she wants in her life, at least.”

  “She doesn’t belong in that organization.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re wrong about that. She’s working hard to overcome her fears.”

  “Then stop her. You know the plan.”

  “What if I don’t want to stop her?” I ask, feeling bolder than I have in a long time.