I had flown to Las Vegas to get the hell away from Gabriel Buchanan and what do I do? I answer his call like a complete, lovesick -besotted fool. I answered his fucking phone call and spent the last three days in an alcohol-induced sex-a-thon with the man.
The man I was trying to break away from.
The man I was trying to forget.
The man I had given my virginity to.
The man who broke my heart with every phone call, every conversation and every touch of his body.
We weren’t children anymore.
We weren’t young adults searching for our way through college, either.
I was still Justice Hillman, high school graduate, who went on to work as a clerk for Dr. Daughtry, who just happened to be the biggest pervert on the planet.
And Gabriel was still Gabriel Buchanan with all his power, money and prestige.
I made enough to live on, but I was nowhere near close to being in Gabriel Buchanan’s league. I was never close enough to be in Gabriel Buchanan’s league. But, then, few people were.
I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. My hair looked like an explosion of colors matted on the top of my head; you could hardly see any of the natural blonde. My eye make-up looked like I was going for the zombie look. My face pale, my blue eyes bloodshot.
I really did look like a porn star after a gang bang.
But to be fair, Gabriel fucked like a porn star.
Last night had been the be all, end all of our weekend stupidity. I was so drunk last night that most of it was blips of images and nothing more. Even as drunk as I was on Thursday and Friday night, I still remembered most of what we had done. Even the stupid tattoos.
But last night…last night would have made the most depraved of villains proud. Last night was the skeleton in your closet you wanted to go with you to the grave.
We drank like fools, danced like idiots, ran around like wayward children and fucked liked we were on ecstasy. Gabe’s done a myriad of things to me in the six years we’ve been sleeping together, but this is the first time we’ve spent three full days doing nothing but drinking and screwing. My body ached and hurt in places that I was going to regret days from now.
Anal sex felt phenomenal when in the moment, but if you weren’t careful, unpleasantness followed for days after. And I begged Gabriel to hold nothing back when I let him slip inside my ass last night.
And the fucker didn’t.
However, no matter how horrible the image was that stared back at me; the matted hair, the bloodshot eyes, the clown make-up, the godawful hickeys that lined my neck and chest, none of it was distracting me from the shine and weight of the stupid, idiotic, unbelievably giant ring that sat on my ring finger.
No matter how many times I closed my eyes, only to reopen them, it was still there.
Laughing at me.
Taunting me.
Torturing me.
All I could do was pray that Gabriel didn’t have one on his hand. Maybe this was all a joke, and the ring was a souvenir or a toy out of a coin machine.
I mean, it looked real.
It felt real.
Felt like arealfucking stupid ass mistake.
Even though I knew the truth in the pit of my stomach, I still prayed that I was wrong. There’s no way I married Gabriel last night. Hell, there’s no way he married me. I mean, it’s one thing to tell me I’ve been the only one, it’s another thing to fuckingmarryme.
Okay, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to go back out there and see if Gabriel was wearing a ring too and if there were any papers lying around to confirm how stupid I was over this man.
I cracked open the bathroom floor and crept my way towards the bed and the naked man that was sleeping on his stomach in it.
