Tentatively, Jenny reaches out. Her fingers are cool, the tips of her manicured nails pressing into my skin. “I’ve missed you, Drew.” One nail traces up my forearm.
Her breasts are almost touching my chest, her lips parted in invitation. I could have her. I could follow her home and fuck her blind. Sex with Jenny was all about what she could do for me. Which sounds good in theory, but no matter how many times I asked, she’d never give me an opinion of her own. Knowing Jenny, she’d still let me do anything I want to her.
And I feel exactly nothing. Nothing except the ever-present creepy-crawly mix of anxiety and anger that has writhed under my skin since the hit.
She’s looking at me with a glimmer of victory in her eyes. As if she thinks she’s irresistible.
Maybe she is to some. And while she might appear flawless on the surface, looking my fill of her has never given me the visceral punch of want that I get from just once glance of Anna.
Anna who, with her wild curls and generous curves, is more beautiful to me than Jenny ever will be. Anna who smells of exotic spices, warm skin, and home. Anna who brings me peace yet can wind me up hotter and tighter than a suspension coil.
Anna who is staring at me from across the wine rack.
My whole body seizes, going prickling hot then ice cold.
Her syrup-rich voice comes out rough. “I just thought I’d get some wine for dinner.” With a shaking hand, she holds up a bag of wine bottles as I gape at her in mindless horror. “Looks like you were doing the same.” Her green eyes flicker to Jenny before going back to me. “I’ll leave you to your…chat.”
And then she’s walking away, and the floor feels like it’s falling out from under me.
FUCK, FUCK, FUCK a duck. I stride through the parking lot, paid wine in hand, my head pounding in time with my frantic heartbeat. I hate what I just saw. Hate it. My stomach turns and my mouth fills with saliva. I want to go back there and grab that little skank by her hair and smash her face into the cabernet section.
My fingers fumble with the car key, which shakes as I turn the lock and wrench open the door.
I know who she is. Jenny. The nasty little bitch who tried to ruin Drew’s life when he wouldn’t roll over for her. I know because the twat had on a pink football jersey—a size too small—with the name “Jenny” printed along the back. Gag. I cannot believe Drew went out with someone who wears clothes with her name on them.
Obviously, she wants to try again now that he’s vulnerable. God, the way she looked at him, like some cat all set to lick up the cream. Bitch.
“Anna!” Drew can move pretty fast on crutches if motivated. He practically flies across the parking lot, his eyes wild and his face pale. “Wait.”
I get in the car and turn it on, loving the way it roars to life beneath me. This is Drew’s car, and I don’t really care, because I’m about to drive away from his ass in it. Before I can slam the door closed, however, he grabs it, hopping a little as he leans a hip against the car.
“I can explain.” He is panting now, sweat dripping down his temple.
“Just the words a girl longs to hear,” I mutter. Heat prickles behind my eyes. Not now. I need a breather.
The bitch walks out of the store, hovering there and watching us with interest. She’ll be here to pick up the pieces should I lay into Drew now.
He doesn’t even look her way. His eyes, wide and pained, drill into me. “You have to know that—”
“At the house,” I snap. “Now get out of the way.”
“No.” He leans in, grabbing at my hand with his clammy one. “Talk to me.”
“Not. Here.” I give a pointed look in the bitch’s direction. “I am not doing this with an audience.”
Shockingly, he steps back and gives a short nod. “Okay.” He holds up a hand. “Okay, but I’m following you.”