He pulls me toward him and then slams me once more against the van, this time knocking the air out of my lungs and dropping me to my knees. I fall over onto my side, gasping for air as he bends down and leans his face into mine. “Your loss,” he whispers and storms away as I finally take in enough air to calm my screaming lungs. I cough and wheeze, clutching at my chest as I struggle to pull myself up onto my feet. What the fuck? What just happened? Justin turned psychotic; that’s what happened. My entire body is in pain and I want to go back inside and nurse my wounds, but I can’t.
“Fucking hell,” I whimper as I climb into Sam and start him up. I pull the visor down and quickly try to recover my appearance so I don’t look like I just got molested in the street. My hair is a mess, completely unraveled from my bun and my face is streaked with makeup. I wipe under my eyes, removing my mascara, and clean up the rest of my face. Peeling my top down to reveal my shoulder, I wince at the bright red fingertip-sized marks that are highly visible. “Jesus Christ. That fucking prick.” I pull my shirt back up and cover them up quickly, resting my head back and taking in several slow deep breaths. That bastard. I’m going to dismember him the next time I see him. I shake my head and fix my hair. I can’t deal with this right now; I have a job to do and I need to fucking do it. I push the events that just transpired out of my mind and pull away from the curb and to a wedding where, hopefully, the only dick the bride will be sucking will be her husband’s.
Everything involving the cake delivery went smoothly. Everything except for what happened before the actual cake delivery. Soaking my sore muscles in my tub, I run through the events that transpired several hours ago in my head. Justin was never aggressive with me when we were together. He never put his hands on me like that before. So I can only chalk up his fucked up behavior to him discovering his wife’s wedding indiscretions and dealing with it like a lunatic. I find it rather perfect that he’s getting what he deserves, as long as he doesn’t deal with it at my expense. One thing is for sure, if he touches me again, he won’t have a dick to cheat on his wife with. I’ll cut that shit off and make him eat it.
My phone beeps and I sit up in the tub, pulling it off the sink and reading the message.
Reese: We still on for 8:00p.m., love?
I sigh heavily and stare at his message. I’m beyond excited to spend the evening with Reese, but I don’t want him to see the hideous marks that grace the skin of my shoulders and my upper back now. And spending time with him and not fucking is going to be a challenge. Of course, I could convince him to do clothes on fucking like we did at the wedding. That was still insanely hot. I nod at my decision as I type.
Me: We better be. I’m in the tub right now getting ready for you.
Reese: Prove it.
So many options here. I slump down so the tops of my knees are sexily poking out of the water and press them against each other. I take a quick picture and send it to him.
Reese: I love those legs. Especially when they’re wrapped around my head.
Me: I especially love that too. Now stop distracting me. I have an incredibly hot CPA coming over in less than an hour.
Reese: Lucky bastard.
I dress in my favorite pair of skinny jeans, which make my ass look higher and tighter, a tight black T-shirt that has a wickedly plunging neckline, and my black pumps. For casual wear, I have to say I am looking pretty doable. My wavy blonde hair falls smoothly past my shoulders and I stick with minimal makeup tonight, just some tinted moisturizer, mascara, and some lip-gloss. A soft tapping on the glass door downstairs sends me carefully hurrying down the stairs and through the kitchen, stopping in the doorway at the sight of my date in the window. Shit, not a date. Not a date, Dylan.
I walk through the dark bakery up to the front door, waving sweetly at him as his smile grows. Reaching up to unlock it, I see his eyes roam down my body, taking in every inch of me before they finally return to my face. I hold my hand on the lock as he studies me.
“Hi, handsome,” I say, still not turning the lock to allow him entry. His green eyes are soft and warm and I’m dying to let him in. But I’m going to wait.
“Hi, love. Are you going to open the door or are you expecting someone else? Another incredibly hot CPA maybe?” He places his hands on either side of the door and tilts his head to the side, arching his brow at me. Oh, how I love playful Reese.
“No, just you. How well can you see me from out there?” The sight of him in jeans and a fitted gunmetal grey T-shirt, hugging his body perfectly the way I want to, is making me feel scandalous all of a sudden.
“Uh, pretty well.” He narrows his eyes at me. “What are you getting at?”
I step back a few feet and stand still. It’s dark outside already, but a street lamp that is on the nearest corner is illuminating Reese. His tall frame is the only thing I can see through the glass. I smile widely at him. “If I’m right here, can you see me okay?”