Rebel Hard (Hard Play #2)(11)

His shoulders were rigid, the muscles of his arms tightly clenched.

Someone pushed open another set of doors at that instant, and the flood of music turned into a deluge.

Face burning and ice in the air, Nayna fixed her dress with shaking hands, then searched desperately for her shoes and purse. There. The purse was right where he’d pinned her up, and there were the shoes. Out of Raj’s line of sight.

She grabbed them, then made her getaway, her feet silent over the lush grass.

Where had she parked the car?

For a moment she couldn’t remember, and panic beat at her throat like a trapped creature. Then her eyes snagged on her cherished lime-green MINI Cooper. Face flushing to scalding, then to freezing, she hotfooted it down the drive to get in. She slinked down into her seat the instant she was inside. Raj was unlikely to come after her, but she wasn’t about to risk it.

Only when she was certain the coast was clear did she turn on the engine and carefully reposition the car for a quick escape. Oh no, was that Raj? She slinked back down in her seat, relieved she’d turned off the engine and the lights only moments before. Barely able to see from her position, she nonetheless quickly realized the man walking to a nearby Mercedes wasn’t Raj. Her shoulders slumped. He’d probably gone back to the party.

Where he certainly wouldn’t have trouble finding a woman to lick his wounds.

Great, now she could torture herself with that lovely image.

Her face was stinging hot when her phone pinged with a message from ísa: Where are you?

In the car, hiding, Nayna admitted.

The last thing she expected was for ísa to slam into the passenger seat only minutes later and say, “Drive!” She sounded as desperate as Nayna felt.

Not hesitating, Nayna started up the car and zoomed out. “Oh thank God,” she said once out on the road.

ísa spoke the same words at the exact same time.





7





Nayna’s Secret Diary (Password: L3tTh3Cr4Z3oUt)





Things that happened tonight:



* * *



No panties.

ísa went skinny-dipping with the hot gardener (aka Sailor). Only, he has AWFUL taste in friends. He was there the night Cody the Slimeball publicly dumped ísa, and ísa is totally confused and disoriented. She’s making up conspiracy theories that it’s all a way to humiliate her again, but really she’s afraid of trusting her instincts. I wish I could kick Slimeball’s ass for making her doubt herself.

Dad was waiting up for me. Good thing I fixed my hair and makeup at ísa’s apartment. People at work can’t understand how I still live at home, but this is my reality. All my cousins still live at home too. Moving out is “a waste of money,” as said by every Indian parent ever—and why would you want to move out unless you were “up to something”? Only Madhuri gets a pass. I’m considering marrying the donkey just so I can divorce him and gain my freedom.

Raj. Raj happened.





8





No Sex Things





Nayna barely slept that night, tormented by dreams of an angry man with intense brown eyes who’d left stubble burn on her throat and whose hand she could still feel on her breast.

Gritty-eyed, she handled Sunday—and Madhuri chirping on about the “cute blue sofa” she’d just bought for her apartment.

She had a slight breakdown on Monday night. Thankfully, ísa was on hand with ice cream and stories of the Slimeball’s face getting punched. Even better, said punching had been done by the hot gardener.

“At least one of us might have a chance at a happily-ever-after,” Nayna muttered to her spreadsheet on Tuesday afternoon.

Unfortunately for her, that spreadsheet was simple. She still had enough work to take her through to Friday and the mandatory two weeks of Christmas vacation, but none of that work was complex. It left her with far too much time to think… and to remember. How Raj’s hands had felt on her body, how his mouth had tasted, how she’d wanted to rub herself all over him.

She jumped when her mobile phone rang. Seeing it was her grandmother, she picked up at once. “Aji, hello.”

“Nayna, beta,” her grandmother said, her voice upbeat. “Is this leopard cologne popular with men these days?”

Leopard cologne?

“Do you know the name of it?”

“It’s the one on television with the oiled men spraying themselves and the big black cats and the girls clawing the men like she-cats.”

Nayna’s cheeks heated at the memory of how she’d clawed Raj. If he’d left her with stubble burn, she’d left him with a few marks of her own. She wondered if he’d thought about her, winced immediately. If he did, it would be to freeze her to the spot with an icy glare. Raj hadn’t struck her as the forgiving type.

“Oh, I know the cologne you mean,” she said to her grandmother. “But if you’re thinking of buying a gift for Dad, he doesn’t use that one.”

“It’s not for him,” her grandmother said airily.

Nayna blinked. “Aji?”

“I just think Mr. Hohepa’s a nice man,” her grandmother answered, coy and nonchalant.