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with me. Most guys would keep going until I physically pulled their hands away—but not Jack. He stopped right with me, right when the over-sensitivity kicked in and eased his hand away from my body.

My breaths came quickly as I continued to stand there against the wall, trying my damndest to re-collect myself. I opened my eyes to see him slowly tasting his fingers. "You're so sweet, Effie. I love it when you come."

So fucking dirty...

I had nothing to say—I was totally blown away. But not for long. Freeing from bliss, my mind returned to the usual suspects—my job, my future, this nearly random guy—and I suddenly felt ashamed. He was hot and famous and I had been caught under his spell. I didn't do this. It just wasn't me, even though it had felt incredible.

"Let's go to the bedroom, Effie."

As much as I wanted to return the favor, I couldn't do it. My mind was scolding me like an angry parent. "Jack, I'm... so sorry. I have to go." I bent down and pulled my panties back into place.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"This isn't like me." I turned my head and stared out at the city again, worried that if I made eye contact with him again, I'd be totally trapped. I couldn't help but feel as if I were just another number in his endless conquest of women. He had probably never been rejected in his life—and I had ensured that his perfect victory streak continued.

"It's not like that," Jack said. "I like you, Effie. I like you a lot."

"I'm sorry, Jack. I have to go." I immediately walked toward the door while he trailed behind me and stood there like a sad puppy.

"Are you sure, Effie?"

"I had a really nice time tonight. Thanks again." I opened the door, and standing there—she actually just about to knock—was a statuesque blonde, clad in a dress not unlike mine. She appeared to be a model, her dress almost as revealing and low-cut as mine. Her breasts also overflowed from the top. I couldn't help but notice, even though that was the last thing I needed in that moment.

"Who the hell are you?" she said with piercing aggression.

I stared back at Jack disapprovingly. There was a look of horror on his face. "Who the hell are you?" I snarled. No, I didn't even care about an explanation. I pushed past the girl and made my way down the hall. Jack began angrily whispering to her as I got further and further away from his room and the madness contained there.

"Effie, it's not what you think it is!"

"You're a cliché," I shouted back. "Did someone write that for you?"

I half-expected him to come running after me, but he didn't. I got to the elevator—Martin seemed surprised to see me so soon.

Chapter 3

The subway was even more mesmerizing than usual. I stared into the rapidly moving shapes as if they were the sun, my guard lowered as I sat there on the dirty bench in my nice dress. I just didn't care. My mother would have killed me if she knew I went out alone in the city dressed as I was. No one bothered me, thankfully.

I wanted to hate Jack, yet I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about the way he had touched me, the way he had manipulated my body into so much pleasure. The gusts of air from the passing trains just reminded me of how out of breath I had been while Jack had me against the wall. He took my breath away, the cliché brought to life.

Who the hell was the gal at the door? Not knowing made me want to scream.

She looked like a high-class escort, to be honest. If she was, she probably made a hell of a lot more money than I did. Being realistic on my end made hating her specifically difficult because maybe she was just doing her job, trying to make a living in a very expensive city, not unlike me.

But Jack? That was a different story. Was she the paid entertainment for the evening? Maybe he had set it up before meeting me at the party and just forgot.

Asshole. He got a surprise too, I guess. She didn't seem happy about seeing me.

The rumble of another train rushed by and totally changed the direction of my thoughts, smashing into them like a battering ram. The voice of reason was creeping in...

Maybe it was all just a misinterpretation. She could have been his sister, his ex, a neighbor. Just because she was a girl didn't mean he had to be sleeping with her. Even if he had slept with her in the past, why did it matter? As long as people were faithful in the present, it was good enough for me. It's not like I could wander around in the present and just make unpleasant events from the past disappear. No, I still wasn't a magician.

Oh yeah, and work and the recording deal and Sam and Jack and...

Honestly, Effie. You don't know a damn thing!

It was all so stupid, yeah. I couldn't get involved with this guy, could I? Jack turned heads when he entered the room. He could have any woman he wanted, including me. Well, not if I didn't let him. Was saying no the only weapon I had? Was that even the outcome I wanted?

Lost in my head, I pictured myself at a fancy bar with him, the night going great. And then I went to bathroom, and in my absence, he began flirting with the girls who had approached him. Numbers were exchanged and then BAM, I was back and he was acting like The Best Guy in the World. I groaned loudly—several people looked at me as I did.

"Sorry," I said meekly. No one seemed to care about my apology. At the very least, the awkward moment served to bring me back to reality.

After noticing several smiling couples around me, I

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