So incredibly good.

I started getting ready for our serious dinner date a while ago. I took a shower and shaved every bit of my body. Put enough lotion on my body that there’s not a spot on my skin that isn’t extra soft and fragrant. Conditioned my hair and blew it dry, taking the time to run my rounded brush through it and give it some curl and bounce. It’s loose and wavy, falling past my shoulders and looking extra shiny. Might be that expensive hair serum I found in the guest bathroom that someone left behind.

Now I stare at myself in the mirror, still a little unsure of the dress I chose. It’s black with thin spaghetti straps that crisscross in the back and dips low in the front, offering a subtle glimpse of cleavage. The fabric clings to my form yet doesn’t make me look too curvy or dumpy. I found it at a discount store last week when I’d been out shopping with Gabe and Sydney and somehow he convinced me to buy it.

Maybe it had been the way his eyes lit up when he saw me after I tried it on. Or the way he tried to shove me back in the dressing room so he could have his way with me. I’d had to shove him right back out and he’d been sad. Flashing me puppy dog eyes combined with a wicked grin, I’d almost pulled him back into the dressing room so he could have his way after all.

Then I remembered that was a bad idea and told him to go wait for me at the front of the store where the cash registers were. He makes me want to lose complete control and I need to be careful, especially when Sydney was around. We needed to be on our best behavior so as not to freak her out. But she’s not around tonight.

And hopefully he’ll appreciate my choice of attire tonight for dinner. He’s supposed to come pick me up in approximately fifteen minutes. I’ve been ready for the past twenty.

I guess you could call me a little anxious.

I grab my tiny black purse that was on the counter, open it and pull out a deep, velvety red lipstick, a color I never wear but have owned for a few months. I brought it with me here on a whim, not having a clue where I would wear it.

Tonight, I’m wearing it for Gabe. And for me.

Definitely for me.

Pulling the cap off, I twist the lipstick up, then carefully apply it to my lips. I rub them together and put the cap back on, tossing it into my purse. I take a step back, contemplating myself, tilting my head. I look…different. Older somehow. Maybe sophisticated is a more apt description.

I’ve never used the word sophisticated to describe myself ever.

The doorbell rings and I dash out of the bedroom, clutching my purse in my hand as I practically gallop down the stairs. I’m not used to wearing heels and they make me feel wobbly and awkward. Wish I could wear my flip flops but I’ll look ridiculous and tonight is all about the fancy.

God, I hope I don’t embarrass myself. Or worse, embarrass Gabe.

I unlock and throw open the door to find him standing there, looking fucking amazing. No other words for it. His hair has gotten a little long over the last few weeks and it’s tinged with gold from the sun. He’s wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his sexy tanned forearms.

Did you know forearms could be sexy? I didn’t either. But they so are.

Black pants and shoes complete the look. The shirt is untucked, so he looks more on the casual side and I wonder for an overanxious minute if I overdressed.

But catching the appreciative gleam in his eyes when he takes me in helps me realize I made the right choice.

“Damn Luce, you look fucking unbelievable,” he breathes, his gaze caught on—you guessed it—my boobs.

He’s a total boob man. And an ass man. Gabe seems to appreciate pretty much every part of my body.

“So do you,” I say, gasping when he reaches out and wraps one arm around my waist, hauling me close to him so he can stare even closer at my face.

“I’d kiss you but I’m afraid I’ll mess up your lipstick,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my lips. Lingering. “Nice look by the way. With the dark lips.” The longing in his voice is obvious.

“I can put on more lipstick,” I say, resting my hands on his chest. His skin is so hot, I can feel him beneath the shirt and for a crazed moment I’m tempted to tear it off of him. “I’d much rather you kiss me.”

“You’ve got it,” he says with a smile, just as his lips gently land on mine.

I almost start to cry at how sweet his kiss is. And I realize in that moment…

I’m going to miss Gabe way more than I care to admit.

Fuck me, she looks beyond amazing. I’d encouraged her to buy that dress and it had been a smart choice. It fits her to perfection, making her look sexy as hell. All that dark, wavy hair, the red lipstick that makes her plump lips look even bigger, damn.

Lucy’s been driving me crazy for the last two weeks. Pushing me to the brink time and again. She’ll let me do just about anything I want to her with the exception of one thing—actual intercourse. Everything else is fair game, even a little ass play.

Yeah, my Lucy is a dirty girl. But she’s only dirty for me.

That’s the scary part. The possessive wave that comes over me every time I think about leaving her, about her going on and living the rest of her life. Without me in it. I won’t ever see her again and she’ll forget all about me. I’ll become the faded memory, a part of that fond, long ago summer when she hung out with that one guy and messed around with him every chance she got. This can only be a summer fling. We made that promise to each other at the very beginning and at that time, I meant every word I said.

But now, when reality has hit and I know I have to leave her in little over twenty-four hours, I can only focus on one thing—I care about this girl. A lot. I don’t want to lose her. Looks like I have to though.

And that’s fucking painful.

“Are you ready to go?” I murmur against her lips after about five minutes of being attached to them. Her lipstick is mostly gone and I’m guessing I’m wearing a lot of it but I don’t really care. That kiss was worth it.

Every kiss with her is worth it.

Lucy nods and withdraws from me, tucking a thick strand of hair behind her ear. I drop my arm from around her waist and watch as she shuts and locks the front door. When she turns to face me, the smile she’s wearing is tremulous. She looks anxious.

I immediately want to reassure her.

“You okay?” I take her hand and lead her toward where my car is parked.

She sends me a wary look, her fingers squeezing mine. “I’m a little nervous.”

“About what?” I frown, not wanting her to feel unsure about anything. I want this to be a special night, just for the two of us. I want to show her how much she means to me. If I can’t utter the words, the least I could do is express my feelings by treating her right. Might be the chicken’s way out but I can’t lay a bunch of seriousness on her right before I leave her forever. That’s not fair. To either her or me.

“Going out to dinner at some fancy restaurant.” The minute the words come out of her mouth she clamps her lips shut, like she didn’t mean to say that.

Why would she feel uncomfortable at a nice restaurant? Rich girls love expensive restaurants because rich girls love having money spent on them, whether it be through gifts or food or whatever else.

Though Lucy is the most refreshingly real rich girl I’ve ever met. She doesn’t seem to want anything from me material-wise. And she likes to shop at bargain stores. She’s always looking for a sale, not that we’ve gone shopping much. Which is strange in and of itself.