Collaboration by Michelle Lynn, Nevaeh Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

uncle’s roof, I learned a whole lot of other lessons about love and sex. And let’s just say that the two models of behavior couldn’t be more opposite.
    Plus, unlike addictions to alcohol and drugs, I can do without women. I don’t physically need to fuck. And although I know that there are people who are addicted to sex, I’m not one of them. In fact, despite the fact that I like the way it feels, I mainly do it because I’m expected to by everyone around me. It’s all part of the game, and I’m a fucking player in more than one sense of the word.
    After I’ve washed up, I reluctantly turn the water off and grab the ultra-soft hotel towel that hangs on the heated towel rack. I like it here, even if everyone does give me shit for not buying a place in LA like the rest of the world. But I’m not like everyone else. Not only can I afford to pay thousands of dollars per night to stay wherever the fuck I want, but I could probably buy the damn hotel if I wanted to. But that’s not going to happen because owning anything in this God-forsaken city would make it appear as if it’s home to me, and no matter how long I live here, this will never be home.
    With that depressing thought, I suddenly feel the need to throw around some weights, regardless of the fact that I just cleaned up. Late at night is practically the only time I can go to the hotel gym anyway because that’s the only time no one’s there. Otherwise, I have to arrange for it to be “closed for cleaning” if I want a daytime workout, and that’s just too much trouble.
    I throw on my sports shorts and toss the towel on the floor for housecleaning to pick up tomorrow. I grimace as I think about how my mom would kick my lazy ass for pulling that shit too. Walking out of the bathroom, I look around and sure enough, the tight ass from earlier is gone. Guess she knows the drill.
    I hear the TV in the living area on at an outrageously loud volume so I throw open the door to find Dre watching SportsCenter, while Xavier practically fucks some chick on the couch opposite him. I grab the remote off the side table and turn off the TV, which results in a listless ‘what the fuck?’ from Dre. He must be stoned—again. X-man, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice.
    “Go get your fuck on somewhere else, X,” I say and head toward the kitchen area to get a bottle of water from the fridge. When I look back and see that he has yet to disentangle his body from whoever is beneath him, I yell, “Xavier, seriously man. There’s another room, ya know. Use it.”
    “Quint’s in there with some ho, dawg,” he says, finally coming up for air and reaching down to button up his fly. I open the door to the refrigerator and dig around, trying to find water among all the bottles of beer.
    “You got your own crib, go there,” I reply, more than ready for this place to clear out. Dre can stay—he’s family. But there’s only so much I can take of everyone else. Just as I locate a water bottle, I feel fingernails scratching their way across my bare chest, which appear to be connected to arms wrapped around my torso.
    “What the f—“ I start, but then a high-pitched giggle tells me all I need to know. And although I don’t know who it is, I know without a doubt what she wants. I slam the door and turn around to face a pretty pair of chocolate-brown eyes. I give her a quick scan and, even though she’s got a kickass body, I’m sure as hell not going to tap some chick that is willing to settle for being sloppy seconds. As Sweet Brown would say, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”
    But of course, I’ve gotta walk that walk so I say, “Hey there, beautiful…where’d you come from?” She giggles again. That and the way she’s hanging onto me, I realize she’s probably high out of her ever-lovin’ mind. Fuck.
    “I was in the bathroom,” she says in a high-pitched voice to match her high-pitched giggle. “I’ve been waiting for you, Trace.”
    I’m not