Chapter Nine

Layla

Stupid. So fucking stupid. That was how I felt as I climbed into the back of the limo, which now held a distinctively cool air. Stupid. Like a stupid, fucking whore. And Eamon Connelly had made me feel that way.

That asshole.

But was he the real asshole or was I the asshole who allowed him to make me feel this way? I knew what this was, a quick hard fuck to pay back a debt. No more and no fucking less. But here I was feeling like I’d been used. Well used and in the best possible way but still, his mood changes made my head spin.

That was the thing no one ever said about good—no great—sex. That the intensity and the hormones can confuse even the smartest of women into thinking—mistakenly—that some kind of connection was taking place when it wasn’t. The only things connecting were our bodies, wet and panting, until the pleasure became too much to bear and had to escape our bodies in what can only be described as the perfect orgasm. And if I was smart, I’d have gotten up as soon as the last shiver left my body and got the hell out of dodge.

But the shower sex had been memorable. Not just memorable but unforgettable. It was so hot and hard with the addition of the steam and water, the rawness of it had been hot as fuck. A shiver shot through me in the back of the limo at the thought of that encounter. But like men do, Eamon had to go and ruin it by reminding me he was a world-class asshole.

It was a good reminder for me though, because there were times back there that I really felt a connection and I tried not to make too many connections. Some shrink would probably say it had to do with losing my mom at such a pivotal age and they might’ve been right, but that only made the connection I felt more disconcerting.

I’d just keep reminding myself that the guy he was after he’d fucked me, was who Eamon Connelly really was. He wasn’t some good guy, he was just a good lay. This wasn’t some love affair and it wasn’t even a proper booty call. I was in his bed, on his sofa and in his shower because I had to be. To clear Dad’s debt.

This was a paid fuck, plain and simple. No matter how nice he may have seemed or how much he charmed me, I needed to remember what this arrangement really was. A business transaction.

Nothing more.

Which is why I spent the rest of the limo ride back to my place, catching up on the day’s news on my phone. Okay, the week’s news because work kept me busy and when it didn’t, making sure Dad was taken care of did and I didn’t get a lot of time to myself. The time I did get was usually spent watching reality TV and crime documentaries.

But there was a lot going on in the world, some of it was a hell of a lot more interesting than what was going on in my life. No matter how dark and twisted it was. I got absorbed in world events until the limo came to a halt outside my apartment building. I hopped out before the pixie driver had a chance to remove her seatbelt, hurrying up the stairs and inside my building just in case the little fairy thought of doing something crazy like walking me to my door.

Thankfully, the halls and the elevator were empty so I could do my walk of shame without an audience. Not that I felt much shame.

Anger? Yeah.

Humiliation? Double yeah.

Homicidal? Fuck yeah.

But I was home now and day one was over with, which meant I was that much closer to the end of my … sentence? Billing cycle?

Whatever it was, we were one day closer to the end of this little game. When I was less frustrated, I might examine why that didn’t make me as happy as it should, but I was exhausted and nothing but a hot bath and a glass of something strong and dark would cure it.