I was up all damn night, unable to sleep because I hated what I saw every time I closed my eyes—her leaning over the bar, that guy. I shake my head trying to rid it of thoughts of her, like I’ve done a hundred times since I lived it hours and hours ago.
Parker Maxwell has scrambled my damn brain. First with eye-opening sex, and then again tonight with showing me exactly who she is.
I blame myself.
She never said we were exclusive. Hell, she told me we were having fun. I may not have much relationship experience, but even I could deduce weeks ago that there was absolutely no level of commitment in what we were doing.
I’ve been looking down at the thriller in my hands for a while, my eyes still not focusing on the words on the page. All I can see is the flirty smile on her face, that man’s hand on hers and the way her amazing tits looked in her corset top.
My cock threatens to chub up from thinking of the latter, but I somehow draw all of my focus right where I don’t want it, the image of her with another man.
It’s not supposed to anger me as much as it does, but I’m pissed. Livid would probably be a better word.
I’m not supposed to be disappointed in what I saw, but that doesn’t stop that emotion from swimming around in my gut like battery acid either.
I have no right to feel used. We decided we were using each other.
I have no right to feel discarded and unappreciated. I was never owned.
Maybe I’m crazy thinking I gave her something no other man has given her. Pleasure wasn’t a new thing for her.
I should feel resigned. She finally made the decision I’ve been warring over since she left here Sunday evening.
I should be relieved that I didn’t have to say the words I had practiced in my head for two days.
I walked in there last night planning to first make sure she was okay after what happened to Hayden yesterday morning, but to also tell her that while what we had was great, I was no longer interested. Not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because emotions were getting involved, and I knew I’d be the one left out in the cold if it went any further. That arctic blast hit me the second I walked into the bar, and the chill hasn’t left my skin since.
I toss the book on my desk with a sigh, trying to block the images from last night that seem to have the power to transform into worry about what she was doing in the days and nights we weren’t together. She could’ve very easily spent time with other men, and although I have no right to feel it, those thoughts make me want to spit fire.
My doorbell rings, anxiety filling my blood as I walk toward it. One look through the peephole has me turning back toward the office.
The last thing I need right now is her pretty eyes and long blonde hair. I don’t need her hungry mouth or greedy pussy. My eyes slam closed when she knocks again, but it’s the click that makes me spin back around.
“What the hell?” I snap, watching her put a credit card back into her purse.
She’s in the same clothes she was in last night, and I know it isn’t because she’s heading to work. The bar she works at doesn’t open for several more hours.
She shrugs, a playful smile on her lips that makes me want to bend her over the arm of my couch and fuck her until she apologizes for making me feel a damn thing for her.
“Misspent youth.”
“I didn’t answer the door for a reason, Parker. You should go.”
“I just wanted to explain. My job is—”
I hold a hand up. “There’s no need for an explanation. We aren’t anything. Just fun, remember?”
“Are we going to have—I mean… is the fun over?”
I swallow thickly.
Just open your mouth and tell her yes, you idiot. It’s that simple. One word. A single syllable. Remember how seeing her near that other man made you feel? Remember how hard it was to walk away without slamming his head into the bar? It’ll happen again.
“Jealousy looks good on you, Jude.”
My eyes snap to hers. “I’m not jealous. A jealous man would’ve knocked that guy off the stool he was sitting on.”
She has no way of knowing that’s exactly what I wanted to do, right?
“You just walked out,” she whispers, her hands trembling as she drops her purse to the floor before beginning to unlace the front of her fucking corset.
The other girl in the bar had the exact same top on, but the way Parker wears it looks downright obscene, an invitation to look, and why shouldn’t she? She’s a free agent. Deep down I’ve always known that.