Read Easy Virtue for Free Online Page B

Walker is right. He’s indeed watching me.
    “He wants you,” Walker whispers once again, pushing his finger all the way in. It hurts, but I love it. It sends a chill coursing up my spine, making my hand tremble as I lift a flute of champagne to my lips.
    After I take a sip, I turn to look at him. “They always do.”
    The moment the words leave my mouth, I’m gripped by a sense of melancholy—emptiness. They all want me—my body, my face, my mouth—but none of them want me . None of them care to know what lies underneath it all. There’s nothing there.
    “Too bad.”
    Not caring that people might be staring at us and listening to our hushed conversation, he lowers his face and lets the tip his nose trace the curve of my neck before adding in a soft voice, “I want to fuck you.”
    Not a romantic statement, yet I can’t help blushing.
    Walker straightens, slowly dragging his finger out of me. “It was great catching up,” he says, addressing the group, “but I’m afraid Blaire and I have to leave.” He looks at me before adding, “I’m done sharing her.”
    More uncomfortable coughs. More angry stares. More disdain.
    Less of me.
    “Good night. It was great meeting you,” I address the group but stare at the girls in particular.
    Walker grabs my waist, ready to leave when the black-haired girl speaks. “Walker, one word before you go. Don’t forget that Arthur and I are hosting a dinner party at our apartment on Tuesday to welcome back Emma from Europe,” she says, smiling maliciously at me.
    He tightens his hold on my waist. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there.”
    Usually, I wouldn’t care what he does with his time, but the way the girl is staring at me with triumph in her eyes makes a bad feeling settle in the pit of my stomach.

    When we walk out of The Met, leaving that nightmare behind us, we are greeted by a dark sky illuminated with fabricated lights. The sounds of a busy night in the city crowd my ears: the angry honking of yellow cabs, hip-hop music coming from a car with its windows all the way down, a frustrated deliveryman on a bicycle ringing his bell as he tries to scatter the crowd blocking his path, the smell of Chinese food drifting out of the white plastic bags sitting behind him.
    After we climb down the stairs of the museum, Walker pulls me in for a hug. With his hands wrapped around me, he lowers his mouth until his lips touch mine. Opening my mouth for him, I welcome his kiss and the delicious assault of his tongue. I wish I could say that this kiss, or any of his kisses for that matter, makes my heart sing or fills me with light, obliterating the darkness inside me, but that’s not the case. I don’t think it will ever happen. But his kiss makes me feel wanted, needed, yearned for. It’s a kiss that doesn’t ask for anything other than a physical reaction.
    Twisting my hair in his hands, he gives it a tug, making me stare at him. “I—”
    One moment he’s gazing into my eyes and the next we’re tangled in leashes and dogs while they yap and howl around us, trying to break free.
    “Shit!” I hear a girl curse. “Chanel! Down girl, down!”
    “What the fuck?” I hear Walker protest angrily as a huge German Shepherd stands on its hind legs, placing its paws on the lapels of Walker’s pristine tuxedo, attempting to lick his face.
    A giggle escapes my mouth as I watch my cool boyfriend struggling to remove the dog from his chest without any success. I’m about to help him when a black mastiff comes out of nowhere and leaps on me, the force of his jump making me lose my balance.
    “Ow, ow, ow!” I exclaim, flapping my arms in the air like a duck.
    My ass is close to hitting the ground when I hear a man curse. Before I make a total fool of myself by falling on the street, a firm body is behind me, breaking my fall. His arms are like corded steel bands around my waist, protecting me.
    “Are you okay?” the man asks, close to my ear. The way his breath, soft and