Page 47 of P.S. I Hate You

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A deep breath hits my lungs. I let it trickle out slowly as I walk to the car and get in. Troy looks as put together as he always is. Not a scratch or a bruise on his handsome face. It brings back Jace’s accusation about Troy’s father fixing the matches. I didn’t want to believe that. I like to think that Troy fights fair, but something doesn’t sit right inside. Nothing about Troy sits right inside anymore.

He flicks the fringe on my cutoffs. “You look like a local.”

“I’m not going to get dressed up to stay at home.”

He shrugs. “You’re still pretty.”

The compliment sends a shock wave up my spine. The lens. It’s sitting on the ledge of Jace’s truck and not in my eye where it belongs. I avert my gaze, hoping Troy doesn’t notice, but he’s not looking at my face. He’s staring at my legs.

“C’mere,” he says, sliding his arm across my shoulders to pull me closer. Warning bells blast in my brain. Is this really my life? Kissing two different guys on the same day?

It is.

Troy’s dry lips land on mine, chaste at first. A series of small pecks before moving in deeper. Strange how two kisses can be so different from one another. One brings fire and lust; the other, sweet serenity bathed in a river of guilt.

I tip my head, and he follows, leaning over the console to get closer. His fingertips dance at the hem of my shirt before sliding beneath. I press my palm against the back of his hand, a silent stop, but he doesn’t get the hint. He cups my breast, his tongue practically in my throat. Sliding my arms between our bodies, I attempt to push him back and fail miserably.

He moves my hand to the bulge in his jeans. “C’mon. Just a little while. If you don’t like it, we’ll stop,” he warbles between kisses.

Another memory pops into my head. “Tracy Givens,” I blurt.

He pulls back. “What did you say?”

I swallow hard, staving off the sick feeling brewing in my stomach. “Tracy Givens, Pam Mackey, and Rhonda … something. Do you know them?”

His kind gaze falls to an evil glare. “Let me guess. Jace told you those names.”

“What happened with them?”

“They’re liars.”

My brows lift. “All three of them?”

“Yes.” He bares his teeth like a dog about to strike. “All trying to squeeze whatever money they can get out of me.”

“That true?”

“You’re gonna believe that criminal over me?”

I narrow my gaze. “Don’t call him that.”

“Oh cute. Defending your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is a person who deserves the same respect as anyone else.”

He sits back in his seat. The cold air emanating from the dash is nothing compared to the frosty chill coming from his side ofthe car. “I’ve been back and forth around here, you know. I see what’s going on.”

My stomach drops. “You’ve been spying on me?”

“Keeping an eye to make sure you’re alright. You two are lookin’ pretty chummy out on the porch together.”

Anger rattles my bones, but I’m not sure which I’m mad at more: Troy’s accusation or the fact that his blind distrust is right on target. Maybe I’m the real asshole here, but he isn’t far off. “We’re just talking, Troy. Last I checked, it wasn’t a crime, but stalking is.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “That fucking word again. It’s not stalking if you’re doing it out of concern.”

Again?

The single word hovers in the cab strangling me with its hidden meaning. How many women has he done this to? My insides quiver, but this time it’s from fear. “I’m going in the house.”


Tags: Jane Anthony Romance