I'll take a side of Zac Efron, please.

JENNIE

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Our last night in Vegas, Chaeng and Chan decide to have a romantic dinner alone. Clara and Keith flew back to New York earlier today, which leaves Lisa and I, alone. Again. To my surprise, Lisa leaves the room early, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She's out of my hair, which gives me some time to order room service, catch up on emails, and pin things on Pinterest for entirely too long.

When I couldn't possibly pin any more, I settle in with an Old Fashioned and turn on the TV. I'm met with Zac Efron's ridiculously pretty back. Sigh. Is there anything more perfect than Zac Efron in the shower?

I watch the love scene with Taylor Schilling unfold, and I'm hot and itchy all over when the screen cuts to the morning after. I raise my glass and press it to my forehead, letting the cool condensation soothe the burn in my cheeks and neck. I glance at the suitcase housing my vibrator, and look away. My drink isn't the only thing sweating. Ice. I need more ice.

Slipping my room key into the pocket of my silk robe, I grab the ice bucket, head out to the hall in my bunny slippers, and go in search of the ice machine.

I find it. Right next to Lisa. Who's hooking up with yet another skeezy-looking female. I mean . . . really? What is wrong with this girl? Can she not keep it in her pants for one night? Or even two damn seconds?

I watch for a beat. Her forearms bunch as she slides her hand up under a girl dress—if you could even call it that. The girl lets out a loud moan and I roll my eyes. I'm sure Lisa's hands are expertly talented—she has had her fair share of practice, after all—but since the girl dress is riding up along with Lisa's movements, I know Lisa's not even anywhere near her vagina. And I highly doubt that her touch would genuinely elicit that kind of moan from the girl or anyone else for that matter. Can she make you come just by laying a finger on your thigh? Because that's something I might consider abandoning my complete abhorrence of her for.

It appears all common sense has left me now, because I quietly pad closer, wondering what it is about this asshole that draws women in like moths to a flame. Sure, Lisa's pretty, in an entitled, rich-kid kind of way, and her body is perfect, definitely, but have these women actually met her? Are they crazy, money-hungry, that hard up for sex? What is it about Lisa that makes the female population weak in the knees? As I'm pondering this, Lisa opens her eyes, and her molten gaze narrows in on me. For a brief second, I think I see emotions flare in them. Passion? Desire? Either way, I'm sure it has more to do with the woman's hand palming her cock than it does with me watching, but for a beat in time, our gazes meet, my cheeks flush, and my body tightens in response to the way she's staring at me.

I shake myself out of it and move closer as the blonde keeps up her ministrations. Lisa groans and I roll my eyes.

"Something we can help you with, Pop Tart?" Her voice is strained as she watches me, and the woman continues working her over. I can't see anything, thank god, just the jerk of her elbow as it moves up and down at an unhurried pace. She turns her head over her shoulder to glare at me, but doesn't stop. She must be awfully desperate to hold Lisa attention.

"Nope," I say as nonchalantly as I can and hold up my ice bucket. "Just getting some ice."

"What's the matter? Couldn't find an ice pick to chip some away from the walls around your heart?"

"Oh, your insults become lamer the longer I spend with you."

"I'm . . ." she groans, "distracted. Barbara is very good with her hands."

Barbara stiffens. "It's Stephanie."

"Right, that's what I said."

She scoffs. "Oh my God, you're such an asshole."

"She really is, and it doesn't get any better once you get to know her. It's worse, in fact. Trust me—this one is never going to call you in the morning because by then she's usually moved on to some other desperate woman."

"Ouch. If I didn't know any better, Pop Tart, I'd say you were harboring some very bitter feelings toward me." The woman stalks down the hall. Lisa calls after her, "Nice to meet you, Cindy."

I shake my head and turn to the ice machine. "You really are an ass."

"And you're a pain in mine. If you don't stop driving away my pussy, I might have to take yours as recompense."

She pushes off the wall, chuckling as she walks the hall to our room. A shudder moves through me, and again, my insides tighten. I tell myself it's just because Zac got me all worked up. I tell myself there's no way I would ever fall for Lisa Manoban's stupid games. I tell myself I'm definitely not turned on, but my panties tell a different tale. Stupid, cocky womanizer.

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