More Than Fashion (23 page)

Over and over, he pounded into me, so deep I knew I’d be sore later. His hands pinched my nipples roughly, and I loved it. I’d asked to be fucked hard, and he was giving it to me. This was not making love; this was sex, plain and simple. No emotions, just lust and passion and release. Last night had been too close to something more, but not this time.

His fingers moved down, rubbing me in exactly the right spot. The feelings he sent all throughout me made my body weak, my knees barely able to keep me upright. My hands grasped at the wall, trying to find something to grab, something to hold on to, but it was too slick.

He pushed me forward, my breasts crushed against the tile, the shock of the cold against my cheek and my nipples making me gasp. He forced my arms up, holding my wrists together with one of his hands, the other still buried between my thighs. And like that, with him completely controlling my body, I came.

He pulled out of me and spun me around, while I was still trembling, while pleasure still wracked my body. He hefted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, then pushed into me again with one smooth thrust. He didn’t even give me a second to catch my breath, to recover from my first orgasm, before be brought me all the way back to the edge.

Our wet bodies slid against each other, my breasts rubbing against his chest, the tile against my back. I clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, as he thrust in and out of me. The friction between us was so good it set every nerve ending on fire.

He gaze locked with mine, his rainstorm eyes piercing deep inside me, watching what he was doing to me. It was too intense, and I tried to look away, to pretend this didn’t matter, that this was just sex. But he grabbed my chin and forced my head back, making me look at him. My eyelids fluttered shut, but he nipped at my lips roughly, still holding my face as he moved inside me.

“Look at me, Julie. I want your eyes on me when you come.”

I opened them, but it was hard to not squeeze them shut and block him out as the rush of emotions swept over me. This time, when the orgasm took me, it was too intense, too much, too strong. I tightened around him, crying out, my eyes still fixed on his. He watched me as I came and then he joined me, but he never once looked away. He released himself inside me, and it was so raw and real I was trembling, and not just from the amazing sex.

He slowly set me down and pressed his forehead against mine. Now his eyes were closed, and he breathed heavily, his hands clutching my shoulders. I held onto him, the only way I could remain standing, while the water sprayed against his back.

“Tell me that wasn’t real,” he said.

I couldn’t. But I couldn’t deal with what that meant either. Because if this
was
real? Then I was in big trouble.

We rinsed off under the hot water. Without a word, he took my hand and slid the bracelet around my wrist, the metal cool against my warm skin. I didn’t stop him. But as soon as it was on, I pulled away from him and left the shower.

I wrapped myself in a towel, gathered up my clothes, and ran out of the bathroom. The bedroom was already dark, and Dawn and Trina were in bed. I got dressed in a long sleepshirt, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“You okay?” Trina whispered, her voice sleepy. “Are you and Gavin…?”

I climbed into my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. “We’re fine.”

“Good. But in the morning, I’m going to give you some tips on discreet shower sex.”

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “Were we that loud?”

“I’d be surprised if anyone managed to sleep through it. Sounded hot though.”

“Oh, it was.”

I was still quaking from it, little spasms dancing along my legs and between them. I fingered the bracelet around my wrist and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart.

Even now, alone in the dark, I couldn’t escape him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
he next day, things went from bad to worse as we finished up our cold weather outfits. This was the second-to-last challenge, and there were only five designers left. The pressure was so high we all barely talked, and when we did, we snapped at each other. Dawn randomly broke down into tears a few hours in, and Trina had to stop and comfort her. Gavin and Jeff got in a shouting match because Jeff accused Gavin of stealing his sewing machine, even though there were plenty in the room and none of us had a claim over them anyway.

I wasn’t in any better shape. I had to completely redo my look halfway through the challenge. I thought my snow bunny one-piece looked good until I saw it on Susan, and then it was all wrong. I was screwed. And so frustrated and upset and exhausted I was one inch away from falling apart.

It was no surprise when I was in the bottom again. But I wasn’t sent home.

Trina was.

We only had a few minutes to say our goodbyes in the breakroom. Dawn was sobbing, covering her eyes, her slender shoulders shaking. It was even worse because not only was she losing Trina, but she’d won the challenge, too.

“Don’t cry,” Trina said, wrapping Dawn in a hug. “We knew not all of us would make it to the final three. And you deserved the win today.”

“But…but…” She dissolved into a wordless cry, burying her face in Trina’s neck.

My heart was already breaking knowing one of my favorite people on the show was leaving, but seeing this made it even harder. I thought it had been bad when Molly was kicked off, but this was so much worse. Tears trickled down my face, and when Dawn finally pulled back, I grabbed Trina for a hug.

“It’s not going to be the same without you,” I said, sniffing.

Gavin hugged her next, and even he had a little tear in his eye, although he tried to discreetly wipe it away.

“Take care,” Jeff said, giving Trina a short nod. Then he walked out of the room. Jerk.

“Group hug,” I said to clear the awkward moment in the room. I threw my arms around Trina, and Dawn and Gavin joined in, too.

“I love you guys,” Trina said. “Promise me one of you will win. It has to be one of you. Not him.”

“We promise,” Dawn said, finally getting control over her crying.

“Good. And the four of us need to get together after the show is over.”

We agreed to keep in touch and reluctantly let her go. She turned to Dawn, giving her one long, tender kiss before breaking away.

With one last wave, she was gone. The three of us stood around, wiping our tears and collecting ourselves before we had to return to the Loft. But Jeff walked back in with a sour expression, followed by Lola.

“It seems you’re all having a rough day, but that’s too bad,” Lola said with an evil smile. “Because your final challenge starts now.”

My head snapped up. Wait, she was kidding, right? She had to be. I couldn’t do another challenge now, not when I was already emotionally and physically exhausted. No way in hell.

But no. She wasn’t kidding.

We shuffled back to the design room, but everything was a blur. I wiped my eyes and tried to focus, but it was difficult. But my entire body jerked to attention when I saw what was waiting for us in the center of the room.

Lola stood beside four dress forms and gestured to them. “For your final challenge, we want you to redo one of your previous looks that landed you in the bottom. Find a way to transform your outfit from something we didn’t like to something we love. You will only have fifty dollars to spend on extra fabric, and the runway show will be tomorrow. And remember: this is the final challenge. We expect to be wowed by your looks. There are four designers left, but only three of you will make it to New York Fashion Week. Good luck.”

She left the room, and for a second we all stood there, stunned. Then we ran over to the dress form with our look on it because what else could we do? We had to get to work.

I’d been on the bottom for many challenges, but they’d chosen my vintage star-covered dress from Lola’s red carpet challenge for me to redo. A dress I loved, that I already thought was perfect, and that Lola had hated for no good reason. I had no idea what to do with it.

Gavin had to redo his superhero look, the one he’d run out of time on because he wouldn’t accept my help. Dawn was given her gown from the wedding challenge, which they’d called a pink Disney princess dress (which I couldn’t really argue with). Jeff was stuck with his dress from the New York challenge, which he’d made from cardboard boxes he’d found on the side of the road and hung from his model’s body in strange ways.

It was already well into the evening, but we were still in the design room, ripping apart our former outfits. On top of our other problems, we all had new models, which meant we had to redo our looks to fit them, too. The pressure felt like a razorblade dragging across my skin. I was already so overwhelmed and tired, and now we were expected to pull out another look—the most important one we’d ever done.

My mind raced, trying to figure out what I could do to my dress. I had some ideas, but nothing fully formed yet. God, if only I had more time, if only I could think about this for a little while…but no, that was the point of this show. You didn’t have time to think. You just had to do.

I spread my dress across the table and studied it. They’d said my look was too costumey, so I’d start there. My plan was to remove some of those elements and make the dress shorter so it was more of a flirty cocktail dress and not a gown. Since I was taking things away from my dress and not adding, I wouldn’t need to spend much, if anything, on fabric. I just prayed it would all be enough to keep me on the show.

I chopped off the bottom of the dress and ran into the sewing room to finish up the new hem. Jeff was already inside, busily sewing away, while a camera filmed him from the corner. I sat as far away from him as possible.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

He shrugged. “I noticed you and Gavin have been fighting a lot lately.”

I glared at him. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing. Only that it’s obvious you wouldn’t have made it this far without your little romance drama.” He smirked. “At least I got them to switch up the models. It wasn’t fair that you got to work with your best friend this whole time.”

“That was you?” I flashed back to when I’d spoken with Eva and had seen Jeff standing down the hall. He
had
heard me. And he’d gone to the producers and complained. The little shit. I’d blown up at Gavin, and he’d been right all along. I should have been thanking him for saving Carla from Jeff, not yelling at him.

“It must be hard for you without Carla. I was hoping to get her myself, but I’m happy with my new model. Anything is better than that plus-sized girl they originally stuck me with.”

My hands tightened around my fabric. “Susan is not even close to plus-sized, you dick. And even if she was, it’s your job to design around her body.”

“I’ve worked with dozens of models. I think I know what the industry standard is.”

“Good luck finding anyone who’ll want to work with you after this show airs,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to win.” He removed his dress from the sewing machine and stood up. “But I doubt you’ll make it past this challenge. We all know the only reason you’ve made it to the end is because of Gavin and Carla. But now you’re on your own—and you don’t have the skills to get you to New York Fashion Week.” He gave me a smug little shrug and then walked out.

All I could do was sit there, staring at my half-finished dress, fighting back tears. My hands shook too much for me to finish sewing it. I’d started out angry, but his last words had hit me hard. Because I knew he was right.

I’d only gotten to the final challenge because I’d been paired with Carla from the beginning and because of my fake romance with Gavin. Even before the show started, I’d had special treatment by being invited instead of having to audition like the others. The producers had given me a ton of help, and all I’d done was try to blame Lola when, in fact, I’d deserved to be on the bottom all along.

Carla came in the sewing room a few minutes later, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. “There you are!” She rushed over and put her arms around me. But when she pulled back, she searched my face. “Oh, Julie, what’s wrong?”

“I have a question, and I need you to answer me honestly. Do you think I only made it this far because of you and Gavin?”

“What? Never! Why would you think that?” She dragged a chair over and sat beside me.

“It’s…just something Jeff said.”

“No, you one hundred percent deserve to be on the show. You made it this far because of your talent and all your hard work—not because of anything else.”

“I don’t know. I was invited on the show. I was paired with you. I even got to work with Maddie. And then this thing with Gavin…” I dropped my head on my arms, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. “Maybe I deserve to go home.”

“Stop that. Jeff is a terrible person. You should hear the horror stories the models tell about him. He’s just trying to mess with your head. Don’t listen to a single thing he says, okay?”

I nodded slowly and sat up a little straighter, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. Fuck that guy. I’m making it to the finale.”

“Good.” She smiled at me. “How are you doing otherwise?”

I threaded my sewing machine and got my dress in position to fix the hem. “I’m a mess. I’ve never worked so hard in my entire life. I might literally die of exhaustion.”

“You seem pretty calm.”

“It’s either that or run around screaming.”

She gave me a long hug, tucking her head on my shoulder. “Hang in there. And don’t forget, I believe in you. I’ll be there at New York Fashion Week rooting for you to win.”

“But if I win the show, you’ll lose.”

“I don’t care about that. I want you to be happy.” She stood up, her curls bouncing a little. “Now finish that dress.”

***

The Loft felt so empty that night with only four of us. Dawn retreated to the private suite since she’d won the last challenge, and through the door, I heard the faint sounds of crying. I didn’t know if she was crying because Trina was gone or from exhaustion from everything we’d been through that day. I was tempted to knock on the door and comfort her, but I had a feeling it would only make things worse. She clearly wanted to be alone, and maybe it was better if we all kept our distance from each other.