Okay, let’s go over the facts here.
If Shade didn’t want to have sex with me, he would have told me to get the fuck out, right?
Or. . . if he just wanted to get off, he would have been quick about it. We fucked for like an hour, and my body has the marks to prove it. Obviously he wanted everything we were doing, and I distinctly remember the moan he let out when he discovered my clit ring. All signs pointed to a good fucking time.
So why’d he pull out?
Still don’t know, and I won’t get my answer because it’s not like I’m going to go up there and demand he tell me. Dignity, remember?
Let’s think about what he said to me:
Stop.
I’m fucked up. I won’t remember.
Goddamn it.
Turn around.
Put your legs up. Now.
Move.
Get off me.
Leave your number. I’ll call the next time I’m in town.
Seems like a lot now, but truthfully, I’ve had more of a conversation with my neighbor’s cat over her leaving cat hair on my legs when I pass by the little fucker.
The next morning, I still haven’t gone home or showered. Part of me doesn’t want to wash away the reminder of Shade just yet. I might never shower again. I sniff my hair that still smells like gas from the event, and then my shoulder that smells like him. Yep. Never showering again.
It’s early when Tom bumps my shoulder and hands me a much-needed cup of coffee. He’s leaning into the wall with his head pressing into the cabinets above. “How’d it go? Worth it?”
He was being a brat last night, so I wonder what’s changed.
Just like Shade, I’m not sure what to make of Tom’s behavior. Why are men so cryptic?
If you’ve pissed me off, I’m going to straight up tell you. No questions asked.
When Tom handed me the cup, I noticed his knuckles are bloody. This isn’t alarming if you know Tom. He’s constantly doing stupid shit. He probably punched a wall for fun.
I raise the cup, winking my thank you. “Did you put cream in this?” He nods. But then I think about his question. I’m wondering why Tom’s asking if I had fun, but I don’t put much thought into it. I’m still high on Shade’s scent clinging to me and the soreness rooting itself in my bones. Not my muscles. It’s deeper. My bones hurt. And my neck. Totally pinched a nerve for sure.
Looks like I’ll be paying Ms. Izzy Bizzy a visit today. By the way, her last name isn’t really Bizzy. Mila and I nicknamed her that when she hooked up with the pro-hockey player, because no one knew for the longest time. She was just buzzing back and forth between Seattle and Canada getting her Bizzy on.
I’m getting sidetracked. Sorry. Back to me and my hurting body.
“So?” he presses, waiting for my answer.
“A lady never tells.”
Tom smirks, bringing his coffee to his lips. “It’s a good thing you’re not one.”
He has a point. “True.” I rub my sore neck. “He put me in a full nelson and fucked my brains out.”
Was that too much? Should I have said that to Tom? Probably not.
He chews on the inside of his cheek, then raises his hand to pinch his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. “I’m almost afraid to ask. . . but what’s a full nelson?”
“How do you not know this? You’re a freak.”
He shrugs.
I take a sip of my coffee and then reach for my hair tie on the counter next to the coffee pot tying my hair up. “It’s where the girl’s on top, reverse cowgirl, and then leans back against the guy’s chest and he hooks his hands behind her knees and then her neck.”
Do you see Tom’s face? The way his interest piques? He’s going to try this with someone. Either that or he’s completely confused on the logistics of it.
Tom’s eyes move to my neck, then dart to my face just as quickly. “Sounds like a game of twister.”
“Kinda is. But worth it. I came twice.”
Tom’s brow collapses and he glares. “Glad you had a good time.” And then he leaves, like I’ve pissed him off.
Strange.
I follow him out the doors, jogging to catch up with him. “Wait, I have to ask you something.”
He stops and turns toward me, pressing a shoulder into the wall. “What?”
Do you notice the way he won’t make eye contact now too?
“Have you ever pulled out?”
Now he looks at me, smirking. Sex always gets his attention. “Yeah. If she’s a ho, I pull out.”
Well fuck. Did Shade think I was a ho? Great. Awesome.
What the hell did I expect? I literally presented myself naked in his room. Of course he thought I was a ho.
NOT SURE WHAT else to do since Saturday is my usual day off and I don’t want to go home just yet, I make my way to Mila’s office since she’s back from her vacation today. She’s in there eating pancakes and staring at a picture of her and Caleb.
Everyone’s in love.
But me.
“How’d he seem?” Mila asks.
I don’t want to burst Mila’s bubble of happiness. Before Caleb, her life was a train wreck of men. She doesn’t need to worry about mine. I don’t even worry about mine half the time. Aside from the fact that Shade pulled out. That I’m fucking worried about.
“Fucked up, but whatever. It was still fun.” I wave my hand around and wink at her suggestively. “How was your weekend with the firefighter? He knock you up yet?”
Her tanned cheeks heat and she sets down her fork, smiling. “Maybe.” And then she gives a flick of her wrist to my girly bits. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”
I shrug. He didn’t come inside me.
I leave that part out and think about the good parts of the night. The roughness of his touch, the demanding way he owned my body, and let’s not forget the many orgasms and bite marks. All worth forgiving him over pulling out, right?
Right.
“Fuckin’ right it was. It’s no wonder that motherfucker has an endless stream of women in his bed. Dude like that needs to share his gifts.”
I’m lying about the sharing. He only needs to share them with me.
She laughs. “I can’t believe you.”
Girl needs proof. I know damn well she’s curious about him. Who wouldn’t be? Mila may be in love now, but this is Shade we’re talking about. He’s the sexual fantasy of millions of women, and I guarantee she’s thought about him naked a time or two.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Could be.
“Look at this!” I stand gingerly and lift my shirt up over my head. “He gave me all these bruises and marks. I’ll wear them like bandages of Shade.”
“Maybe you should see Izzy Bizzy this afternoon,” she teases.
I wink. “Only if you’ll help me stalk Shade in California . . .”
“What did he say afterward?”
Do you see the way my face falls? Mila certainly doesn’t miss the change. “He said he’d call when he was in town next time.”
I never left my number for him. I was too embarrassed.
Do you see the way Mila’s face turns to anger?
This was why I was afraid to tell her. She needs to be happy. After nearly dying in a fire over a stupid obsessed man, she deserves happiness. The problem is, Mila’s a good friend, and if I’m not happy, she somehow puts it on herself as she needs to fix it.
When my grandma died in May, she spent a week at my apartment trying to grieve with me and force ice cream on me. I gained five pounds that week.
“Mila,” she sighs, knowing by the range of emotions in my face what I’m thinking. Can you see me? Do you see it? I’m sad whether I’m trying to hide it or not. And apparently doing a shitty job at masking it. “It’s okay. I knew what would happen when I got in that bed. I can’t expect a guy like him to fall in love with me after one night.”
One would hope, but I knew going into this that wasn’t going to happen. Given his emotional state, I definitely knew this wouldn’t happen. Can’t blame a girl for holding out a fraction of hope.
I put my hands on Mila’s cheeks and kiss her lips. I know, weird, but I do it anyway. “I love you. Not in a sexual way. Though, if you ever want to swing that way, I’d totally try you out. . . .” I pause, giggling, and then continue with, “You deserve to be happy. Let yourself be, and don’t you dare think for one minute I’m not. I am. I’m happy for my friend that she’s in love, and alive and living with a boy who treats her with some goddamn respect,’ I tell her, hoping I’m conveying how much she means to me and how much I truly want good things for her. “Happiness doesn’t come all at once for everyone.” My shoulders lift into a shrug. “And eventually, Shade’s going to call me because I won’t let him get away with not calling me. You will always be my best girl, Mila,” I tell her, tapping my fingers to her squishy lips. “And my offer remains.”
A knock on her office door draws our attention. It’s her boyfriend, the firefighter, carrying a box of cupcakes from Cupcake Royal.
He tips the box my way, smiling. “There’s some in here for you too, Scar.”
Take a look at Caleb Ryan for a moment. At first I was bummed I let Mila sit on his lap that night in the bar, what with his sparkly green eyes and burly frame. He reminds me of an insanely hot teddy bear.
But Shade. . . I’ll take him any day over Caleb, even with Shade’s troubled demeanor and pull-out methods.
I glance back at Mila. “I won’t tell him about our plan to become lesbians if there’s red velvet in there for me.”
Like a typical guy, Caleb takes the conversation where he wants it. “I’m definitely ready to hear this conversation.” And then he hands me a cupcake as a plea bargain. It’s red velvet, so you know, I’m tempted to walk over and kiss Mila again for having such a good boyfriend. Nothing like a cupcake to cure a bad day. “I get to watch, right?”
“That depends.” I’m always using my resources. Just watch. “Can you track someone in California for me?”
“No, but Kellan might be able to.”
I tap my finger to my chin. Kellan? Oh, right. His cop of a brother. I remember that dude. He handcuffed me to his bed and then conveniently lost the fucking key for an entire day while I remained chained up until he got off his night shift. What a motherfucker. “That won’t work. I slept with your brother and then didn’t call him back.”
Caleb hands me another red velvet cupcake like a champ. I knew I liked him. “I like you more already.”
Collecting my cupcakes, I nod to the door, and the burn in my muscles remind me of how sore I am. “I must go. I need to see Ms. Izzy Bizzy about my soreness.”
There I am, limping down the hallway and you’re asking yourself, now what? Is she really going to chase Shade to California to knock some sense into him? Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re just laughing at the way I’m walking and thinking, shit, she had a good fucking time.
But the further I walk, the sadder I am that I couldn’t reach him last night on a deeper level. After Asher died, my mother of all people, the crazy hair-brained freak she is, actually made sense for once when she saw me crying for a month straight. Sure, I had broken up with him that night, but it didn’t stop him from being my one great love.
And it certainly didn’t stop the demons in my head, the ones that screamed at me that it was all my fault.
She said, “You don’t find the devil under your bed, you find him in your mind.”
I’m sure, no, I know Shade can attest to that. I saw it in the eyes that never quite found mine and made my body burn for him. I hold out hope that somehow, someway, maybe I can make a difference.
As I limp toward the spa, I know he’s made a difference in mine.