Page 19 of P.S. I Miss You

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My mouth twists up at the side and my heart flutters, but not in the way that would suggest I’m crushing hard on Robert. So far he’s simply a very nice (and very powerful) man who’s adorning me with attention and compliments and promises of a bright future. I’m not naïve and I know he’s telling me everything I could possibly want to hear tonight, but I’m not willing to walk away until I see where this is going.

There’s a chance Robert might be full of shit.

But there’s an equal chance he might be genuine.

The city is alive tonight, all its colors electric and vibrant. I crack the passenger window and let the warm breeze kiss my face.

“Do you ever get tired of the—” I begin to ask him a question, but I promptly lose my train of thought when I feel the warmth of his palm on my left thigh.

This is unexpected.

Robert glances my way, his fingers inching up, his hand sliding beneath the hem of my dress with bold casualness as the city lights flash and flicker across his face, almost contorting it.

Funny how beautiful those lights were a mere moment ago.

My heart hammers and my stomach knots. I’m paralyzed, contemplating how I’m going to handle this, but the seconds feel as if they’re moving twice as fast and my mind isn’t able to function at that speed with his hand on my inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” I manage to ask, my eyes dragging from my lap to his narrowed regard. Gone is his charming smile, and in its place is a determined leer.

I jerk my leg out from under his disgusting mitt but it’s not like I have much room to move. The inside of the car is tight and narrow and aerodynamic. Space between us isn’t exactly a thing.

“Come on.” He doesn’t care that I’m leaning away, that I’m making it clear that I’m not okay with this. His hand slides deeper between my thighs, but I dig my nails into his arm, peeling it off me, and then squeeze my knees together.

My eyes burn before watering, but I blink it all away. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s upset me. That would imply he’s got some kind of power over me, and bastards like him get off on that shit.

He reaches across the console yet again, but this time I slap his hand away.

“I want out. Let me out.” I reach for the door handle but we’re moving and the door is locked.

Robert’s car slams to a stop at the next light, and he almost rear-ends a red BMW. The seatbelt locks across my chest and I look to the door handle again. Scanning the outside, I envision what would happen if I bolted out of here, but the three lanes of bumper to bumper traffic separating us from the nearest sidewalk might make this difficult.

“You’re insanely gorgeous.” He reaches for my hand, peeling it off my lap and slipping his fingers through mine. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, Melrose.”

And the way he says my name sends bile rising up the back of my throat.

“I told you,” he says, looking at me. Every time his eyes land on me, I feel cheaper than I did the time before. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. You’re a work of art, Melrose, and you’re going places. But I’d like to see more of you.”

Pulling my hand across the center console, he places it on the outside of his suit pants, rubbing it along his stiff cock. The scratchy fabric covering his thick bulge is a feeling I’m never going to forget as long as I live.

I’m not a violent person but if ever there were a time …

I don’t think twice. I just do it. I squeeze. Hard.

The disgusting bulge of his package fills my palm and I clamp down, nails and all, crushing it as much as possible through his thick suit fabric.

Robert swerves, almost hitting a neon yellow Corvette. “You fucking bitch!”

“Pull over.” I stare ahead, though from the corner of my eye, I can tell he’s wincing and red-faced. His fingers grip the steering wheel until his knuckles glow white in the dark.

He laughs, like he doesn’t take me seriously. “What?”

“Pull over,” I say, teeth gritted. “I want out.”

This isn’t the greatest section of L.A., but there’s a twenty-four-hour CVS on the corner and I can wait there while I order an Uber.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffs. The CVS comes into view and then vanishes into the distance as he continues to drive. “I was just trying to show you how sexy you are. It’s a good thing. No need to get all sensitive about it.”

“Sensitive?” My jaw falls. “You were trying to slip your hand up my dress and then you forced me to touch your cock. Let me out, Robert. Now.”


Tags: Winter Renshaw Romance