Kitty’s treatment of him didn’t scream business relationship, either. She didn’t sound afraid or intimidated by the reclusive owner.
I shook my head, trying to dismiss the doubts creeping in. But as I pulled Jason’s shirt tighter around me, the smell of his cologne lingered, making it harder to let go of the doubt.
The memory of his hands roaming over me made heat pool low in my stomach. My thighs clenched involuntarily.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. I needed a cold shower. That was the only way to calm down before I did something stupid—like dig through my purse for his card and call him, begging for answers or worse, begging forhim.
TWENTY-THREE
Everyone fallsvictim to wanting what they can’t have at least once in their life. The driving force almost always came down to the danger of getting caught. In some circumstances, disobeying the rules was the reward in itself.
That was why I ended up slumped on my couch and dreading facing the consequences of my actions. Because people loved forbidden things.
And I was no exception. Jason was, at the very least, a bad idea. Fucking a coworker usually ended in flames, but my boss? I had barely recovered from being unemployed the first time.
The world demanded my attention just as I shoved another Hot Cheeto into my mouth. I was obsessed, as if the heat could somehow burn away the memory of Jason’s hands on my skin—or his cock. The empty chip bag sat crumpled next to me on the couch.
My phone vibrated loudly against the glass coffee table, rattling and interrupting the depressing silence of my apartment. I glanced at the screen but ignored it, opting instead to dig into a second bag of snacks. Four missed calls later, my annoyance outweighed my apathy, and I snatched up the phone with a huff.
“Where’s the fire?” I grumbled, leaning back against the cushions. It was my day off, and I still couldn’t get any peace.
“There’s a hot new club downtown, and guess who got us in?” Sarah’s bubbly voice rang through the line, full of excitement. “That’s right, this bitch.”
I rolled my eyes and stretched out my legs, wiggling my toes against the scratchy fabric of the couch. “Name?” I asked, already imagining the worst. The sketchy side of town had started to creep into places that called themselves respectable. Business owners played the role of family men by day but hit the same strip clubs by night.
“That’s a surprise,” Sarah chimed. “Be ready by seven.”
My internal hermit hissed, but before I could protest, Sarah cut me off.
“No excuses. Squeeze your ass into something sexy. We’ll be there at seven,” Sarah commanded. It was her personal mission to get me out into the world, even if that meant taking an axe to my door.
I didn’t feel like exerting the energy it would take to argue. “Fuck you.”
“I love you too,” she giggled and hung up.
I leaned back on the couch, tilted my head against the worn cushion, and reminisced about the days when I intimidated people.
College had been easier—at least at first. No one knew who I was, and a quick scowl worked wonders at keeping strangers, or overly friendly classmates, at arm’s length. But you couldn’t really intimidate anyone who’d seen you strutting around in an LED thong. Those days were long gone.
I shook my head, trying to shrug off the creeping blues, and forced myself to find a silver lining. Having friends came with its perks. If it weren’t for Sarah, I’d still be face-deep in a pint of mint chocolate chip, hiding from the world.
While forcing myself to interact wasn’t my first plan, licking my wounds at home hadn’t eased my nerves. Submitting to Jason was satisfying at first, but regret was quickly sinking in.
His disappearing act triggered my change of heart. I had lived through Dad’s great escape, and Tristan’s when he left for college, leaving me to tend to Mom alone for the next two years. Not that Jason had made me any promises.
After digging through the leftovers piling up in my fridge, I attempted to find an outfit. Reluctantly, I shuffled to my bedroom, flipping on the light. The soft yellow glow illuminated the small space. My unmade bed was covered in a mismatched pile of clothes I’d dumped there earlier. I pulled open the closet doors with a wince.
Shopping had never been my thing, not even as a kid. My mom would drag me through store after store until I cried. Needless to say, I kept shopping to a minimum. I cursed myself for it as I searched for a Sarah-approved dress, throwing a few ensembles onto my bed and yanking them on for judgement.
I stared at the girl in the mirror and prayed the bar crawlers would avoid me.
Eventually, I settled on a burgundy fitted dress that hugged my curves. It was the same one I wore to last year’s office Christmas party—the one where I accidentally walked in on Mr. Whelms cheating on his wife with his assistant, while she drank her weight in spiked punch. Witnessing the shriveled old man boning his twenty-something desk jockey had poisoned the whole night.
I gazed at my toned ass, courtesy of Kitty’s fitness regimen, and decided to wear the dress out. It deserved to see some non-disgusting action.
Gathering my hair into a ponytail, I fought the desire to change back into my sweatpants. I did my best wallowing whenI was at home, completely alone, and I had a lot of wallowing to catch up on.
But before I could succumb to temptation, someone knocked on my front door. I figured Sarah had arrived early to collect the missing piece of her slut squad.
