It must be nice, though, to go home tonight, knowing you can pay your bills tomorrow. That you can go to the grocery store and put whatever you want in your cart.

I look up and meet her eyes, and I can tell she’s thinking the exact same thing. It could be easier for me, too, if I take her boss up on his job offer.

I won’t make as much as my sister as a bartender there, but I’d make more than here.

But while The Hook may offer fast money, nothing about that place is easy. Men look at Cam like a free meal, and she puts up with a lot of shit.

Still, though…I’m tired of worrying about money every damn day.

I go back to work, but I can feel her eyes on me. She thinks I’m a hamster on a wheel.

“Just shut up,” I mumble.

She snorts. “I didn’t say anything. Not one single thing.”

“Thank you,” I say, climbing out of Cam’s Mustang just over an hour later. I fold up the front seat and grab my bag from the back, quickly glancing over my shoulder to see if Cole’s car is in the driveway.

It’s not. Just Pike’s truck.

I shake my head.

“You don’t work tomorrow, right?” Cam asks.

I turn back. “No, but I do Saturday night. I’ll text you my schedule later.”

“Okay.”

I slam the door and dig in my pocket for the house key. “Love you. Bye,” I call out.

“Oh, I bought something for you, by the way!” Cam shouts through the open passenger side window. “Look in your backpack when you get into your room. Test it out. See how it feels.”

I stop, turning halfway around and thinning my eyes on her. “Not another vibrator…” I whine.

She throws her head back and laughs at the present she gave me for my eighteenth birthday last year. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t let me open it in front of a party full of people.

“Not that,” she says. “But it’s definitely something you and Cole can enjoy together.” And then she jerks her chin toward the dark house behind me. “Or, um…perhaps the man of the house might like it, too. The other man of the house, I mean.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I shoot her a dirty look. “I don’t even want to open the package now.”

“’Night!” she taunts and pulls away from the curb.

Jerk. I love my sister, but she knows how to embarrass me.

After unlocking the front door, I step inside, push it shut behind me, and twist the lock again, looking around the dark living room. It’s tidy, and I walk past the entrance to the kitchen, taking in the single, small stove light left on the way I appreciate. The sink is empty of dishes from what I can see, and I exhale, loving the feeling of coming home to a clean house.

I trail up the stairs, the house giving off an eerie silence around me. Walking down the dark hallway, I lift my head and see Pike’s bedroom door straight ahead of me. It’s closed and no light shines from under the door.

I swing open the first door on the left and flip on the switch, discovering what I already suspected. The bed is empty. Cole’s still out.

I drop my bag, closing the door quietly and pulling my phone out of my back pocket.

I’m home. Where are you? I type and wait for the three little dots to pop up, showing me he’s replying.

But after a few moments, nothing happens, and I toss my phone down on the bed.

He has to be at work in eight hours, and he better be going. Otherwise he’s not coming with me when I save enough to get out of here.

I kick off my shoes and head toward the bed, ready to plop down and get off my tired feet, but I stop, remembering the “something” my sister said she put in my bag. Turning around, I pick up my satchel and unzip it, setting it on the bed. And there, right on top, is a pink-striped shopping bag I didn’t put there. It’s from Victoria’s Secret.

Unrolling the package, I reach inside and instantly fill my hand with fabric. I suppress a groan, my wishful thinking dying. I pull out the lacy, cream-colored panties and matching camisole that doesn’t look big enough to cover much. The cleavage is low, and the top’s not even long enough to cover my stomach.

It’s definitely pretty. And sexy. But it’s skimpy as hell. Cole would have a field day, coming to bed to find me in this.

No foreplay. He’d be on top of me in a second.

But why did she buy me this? It’s not like I don’t wear sexy underwear. I don’t need lessons in how to keep a guy interested, thank you.

But then I notice a piece of paper laying on the bed that must’ve been in with the clothes. I pick up the half-sheet and read the flyer.

Amateur Night!

Get Wet! (Your T-shirt, anyway)

May 27 at 9 p.m.

The Hook on Jamison Lane

Grand Prize $300!!

“Great.” I laugh under my breath and drop the flyer and clothes, shaking my head. My own sister is trying to turn me out. What the hell is the matter with her?

I’m not showing every old skeeze in town my boobs for a chance to win three hundred bucks. I can work at Grounders, because I do enjoy some of the people, listening to music, and having a job where I earn tips, so I have a little cash on me after every shift, but there’s nothing about a wet T-shirt contest I’d enjoy unless I was drunk. Maybe.

I make sure the blinds are closed and pull off my T-shirt and unbutton my jean shorts. Letting everything fall to the floor, I reach behind and unsnap my bra and then reach into the bureau for a T-shirt.

I stop, though, and eye the new lingerie lying on the bed. Cole might be sorry he stayed out when he comes home to see what he missed.

Pulling off my panties, I reach over and grab the new underwear and gently pull on everything. My coffee cup of pens and pencils sits on top of the dresser, and I reach over and pull out the scissors, cutting the tags off everything.

Standing in front of the mirror, I fluff my hair and comb my hands through it, adjusting the fabric on my hips and my breasts in the wireless cups. I turn around, looking in the mirror over my shoulder.

I can’t help the smile that peeks out. Cam isn’t stupid, is she? It’s the perfect color on me, my base tan already in full swing. The panties sit perfectly on my hips and even without much support in the top, my breasts sit perky and flattering. I run my hand over my smooth, flat stomach and up the curves of my waist, wishing someone was here to appreciate the view and make me smile.

A pool of warmth settles between my thighs, and I can’t help but think how a simple change of clothes can make you feel a world of difference. I brush one of the straps off my shoulder, loving how sexy I feel. The pulse in my clit starts to throb, and I’m definitely in the mood now.

Hooking the strap back on my shoulder, I grab my phone and text Cole again, noticing he still hasn’t texted back.

I kind of need you right now, baby. *wink wink*

I wait, but the three dots still don’t pop up. I start the Spotify app on my phone, playing Run to You, careful to keep the volume low as I fall onto the bed.

I’m wide awake now.

And turned on.

Closing my eyes, I let the music course under my skin and slowly drift through my fingertips, down my thighs, and back up the inside of my leg, tickling the flesh until goosebumps rise. Gently cupping myself between my legs, I roll my hips and rub, my blood starting to heat up and my heart pumping faster as my clit tingles.

I moan, feeling my hardened nipples chafing against the lace. My other hand takes a breast and squeezes it as I twist my head to the side, my hair falling in my face.

Sometimes I wonder if I could ever do what my sister does. When I see all the money she brings home, and I’m tired of the worry and the stress, could I just do it?

I flip over and push myself up to my knees as I lean over with my hands on the bed between my thighs. I press my arms into my breasts, forcing them together, full and about to pop out of the top. Rolling my head, my hair caresses my back as I keep my eyes closed and start to grind to the music.

No, I can’t do what she does. I don’t want lots of men watching me.

But one man? Like a boyfriend? A man who craves me and who’ll watch me with possessive eyes as I dance for him....

He’s watching me. I’m in a dark room, a glossy, white stage under me, and a soft purple light on me. I move onto all fours, crawling and biting my bottom lip as lean forward, spreading my thighs and my knees pressing into the floor as I hump the stage.

He’s in the back, so far away, but he’s there. He’s the only one there. I’m all for him. He hides in the shadows and leans his shoulder into the wall as he watches me. I roll my hips slowly, taunting and teasing him, and then move back onto my knees, grabbing the headboard to hold onto as I dance and grind.

The strap of my top falls down my arm, and I cup my naked breast, looking over my shoulder at him. The cigarette—or cigar—in his hand hangs at his side, burning a stream of smoke into the air. But he seems to have forgotten about it as he stares at me.

It occurs to me Cole doesn’t smoke, but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes.

I want him to see me. I want him to want me. I feel him want me, and I like it. God, I like it. Keep watching me. I wonder what his mouth tastes like. What do his teeth feel like? My nipples tighten and harden, craving a mouth.

I’m gonna get you off. Keep watching me. Keep watching me.

I lean back on my hands, rolling my hips faster and harder, and I can feel my skin growing wet with sweat as I rub my pussy and move my ass for him.

Only him.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, feeling my orgasm crest. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”

But then a loud slam echoes through the house, and I pop up my head up and open my eyes. Shit!

I freeze, listening. The floorboards in the hallway creak, and someone moves down the hallway and then pounds down the stairs. I hop off the bed in a hurry, in case it’s Cole.

I wouldn’t have woken his father, would I? That was so stupid! What if the bed was creaking?

Shame burns like fire on my face, and I inch toward the bedroom door, cracking it open for a peek. The hallway is still dark, but I can hear talking and then a door slams shut downstairs.