I snap myself out of it, wiping the cold sweat forming on my forehead away. I went to war because I wanted to stop the pain losing my father created. I stopped the pain, but I stopped everything else, too. Being around Makayla is the first time in years I’ve felt closer to my old self, like part of me is still linked to her and how I was in those days. She’s helping me remember who I am, little by little. The worst part is I don’t know if I want to remember.
I step back into the living room and stop in my tracks. She’s lounged on my couch, one long leg dangling from the blankets. One very naked, long leg. I take in the smooth skin that glistens softly and the way her calf tapers perfectly into narrow ankles above feet that are a little larger than average. Rather than seeing it as a flaw, I always thought it was endearing. Makayla Pierson was always seen as perfect by everyone, but she always had those slightly oversized feet. It makes me grin to remember the ways she tried to avoid me noticing when we first started dating. Always black shoes, never open faced, and usually a size too small.
Before I realize it, I’m only a few steps from where she sleeps peacefully on the couch. Her golden hair swirls around her heart shaped face, framing the perfect picture of innocence it makes. Such an innocent face that you would never expect her to lie or snoop through someone’s apartment when they weren’t watching. Thinking about the way she tried to deceive me has me wanting to… I clench my fist. No. I’m not even going to dignify that line of thought right now. She’s a client. I don’t care how fucking gorgeous she is or how much I’d like to see those perfect lips wrapped around my--
Shit. Maybe I’m going to think about it a little, but I’m not going to do anything. I can manage that much.
I’m about to turn and walk away when her eyes drift slowly open and then widen at the sight of me standing over her. She notices her leg hanging out from the blanket and pulls it back under the blanket.
“I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat,” I say.
“You sure?” she asks. “Because it looked like you were thinking about taking a bite of me.”
I smirk, rubbing my mouth with the back of my thumb and then biting my lip. God damn. What a fucking tease. She gives me a half-smile before it falters and she clears her throat. “Food sounds good, actually.”
I’m a little surprised that she’s making it so easy on me, but I don’t fully let my guard down. “I know a place,” I say. “Just let me grab Makay… my dog some food.” I see her covering a smile as I head to the kitchen to grab my dog’s food. Okay, so what if the shit about the shelter already naming her was a lie. Her original owners named her Bat Girl, and I wasn’t about to walk around calling my fucking dog Bat Girl. So I named her Makayla. It was the first name to pop in my head, big deal.
I use a can opener on Makayla’s wet food and pour it in her favorite bowl, giving it a fifteen second shot in the microwave, just the way she likes. I sprinkle a little salt on it for taste and stir in a handful of dry food. Then I set two treats for her on one of the bar stools. She has to stand on her hind legs to get to them, and it always takes her a few minutes to work up the energy to do it, but the old girl needs the exercise. I slap her plump belly as she waddles over to get her food.
“Keep an eye on the place while we’re gone, girlie.”
When I stand, the other Makayla is leaning in the doorway with a huge grin on her face. I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time to see she has slid back into her dress. “I never would’ve guessed you could be such a sweetheart.”
“Shut up,” I growl, moving past her. I hear her following after me.
“Do you always season her dog food?” she asks.
I don’t even have to look over my shoulder as I pull open the door to know she’s still smiling ear to ear.
“She’s picky,” I grumble.
“You don’t think she’d eat whatever you gave her if she was hungry enough? Salted or not salted?”
I sigh, increasing my pace as we walk toward the elevator, wanting to get out of this embarrassing line of questions. “She’s all I have. I’m not going to starve her.” I wince. That sounded way more pathetic than I intended, and judging from the look of concern on Makayla’s face, she picked up on every bit of it.
Her smile is gone, replaced by a reluctant look of sorrow. “She’s all you have?”
“I’m fine. Really. That sounded more pitiful than it is. I don’t need a bunch of people complicating my life.”
I feel her looking at me, waiting for me to say more. She can wait all she wants. I’m done talking about it. The elevator doors chime and let us out in the lobby. I motion for Makayla to wait in the elevator while I scan the room for anything out of the ordinary. Once I’m sure it’s clear, I gently guide her out by the small of her back. It’s habit, but when she doesn’t flinch away from my touch this time and lets me continue to protectively guide her to my car, I feel my cock stirring traitorously. The way the soft muscles of her back tense and relax with each step is making me think of how it would feel to squeeze her hips as she grinded into my cock, and that’s a thought I don’t need to be having.
If being my client wasn’t enough to make her off-limits, the way I treated her ten years ago definitely is. I don’t deserve to be with her, and she definitely deserves more than my shell of a self getting entangled in her life again. But I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stay away. I might be too fucking selfish to keep my hands off her and keep my distance. I want to taste her lips again so badly it hurts, even if it’s just once.
When we step outside, I grimace at the traffic clogging the streets. “Let’s just walk,” I say. “I don’t want to get stuck in this.”
“Okay,” she says, oddly compliant.
What’s more odd is she lets me keep my hand on the small of her back, and I don’t have the willpower to move it away. I lead her down the street. I’m wearing a low-key outfit of jeans and a black t-shirt and she’s still in the small dress from her shoot the day before. I’m surprised she hasn’t already been raising a fuss over going back to get fresh clothes. Most women I’ve met wouldn’t have left the apartment without fresh clothes, but she seems to be handling it. On a whim, I decide to take her inside one of the clothing stores we pass.
She gives me a strange look, but I rifle through the racks and quickly pick out a light green top and gray leggings. I hesitate for a second and then grab a pair of boots too. She’s looking at me like I’ve absolutely lost it now, but I push on to the register and pay for the clothes.
The guy behind the counter gives me a receipt, and I quickly snatch the clothes and hand them to Makayla. “Go put these on in one of the changing rooms.”
She looks down at the clothes thoughtfully and then meets my eye with a daring boldness that has my cock hardening immediately. “What about underwear?”
I clear my throat. “Go on then. Pick some out.”