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Cindy and Belle smile at me, linking their arms through my elbows and pulling me towards the food court.
“Carbs, and then lingerie shopping. We need to get you something spectacular for tonight that will blow Eric’s mind,” Cindy tells me.
“Piss off. I have plenty of lingerie at home. I’d rather spend the rest of the day plotting Eric’s death,” I grumble as we get in line at the soft-pretzel place.
My two friends just stand there and laugh, knowing damn well I’m not going to kill the guy.
I’m torn between wanting to fuck his brains out or come up with a lot more colorful words to call him when I see him later, though.
I guess I’ll have to wait and see which impulse wins out.
Chapter 20: Gang Bang, Party of Me
“You’ve been strangely quiet tonight. Are you nervous? You don’t need to be. You’re gonna kick ass on that stage,” Eric tells me as he pulls into the parking lot of Charming’s, and I continue staring out the window of his SUV.
“Of course I’m gonna kick ass tonight. I look good. And I feel good. But you already know that, don’t you? Of course you know that, because you know everything. Mr. Smarty Pants who thinks he can pull one over on me. Whatever,” I complain as he pulls into a parking space behind the building, far away from the door.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” Eric mutters, turning off the engine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shift his body in his seat to face me, one arm flung over the steering wheel and the other resting over the back of my seat.
“I told you going to the mall today would not end well. Did you kill someone? Do we need to leave the country? I made a big investment the other day, so money might be tight for a little while, but I’m sure I could wrangle up some fake passports,” he tells me.
I can hear the smile in his voice, and it just makes me want to punch his mouth. Or kiss it.
Goddamn it! Why can’t he just argue with me or call me a bitch? Why does he have to go along with my insanity and make me want him even more when I’m trying to stay angry?
“You back-doored me!” I shout, whipping my head away from the window to glare at him, even though it’s pitch black outside and the glow from the dashboard lights probably isn’t enough illumination for him to see the fire in my eyes.
“I’m pretty sure I would remember that.” He smirks.
“Stop being cute when I’m trying to be pissed off at you.”
“I’m not cute. I’m never cute,” he scoffs. “I’m hot and charming and irresistible.”
Fucking hell. I just want to launch myself across the seat and attack him.
I clench my thighs together to stop myself from doing exactly that. We need to have words first. I need to be an adult and talk to him like one instead of pouting like a child.
“You’re the reason I’m ready to strip tonight. You’re the reason I don’t look in the mirror and see everything that’s wrong with me. You’re the reason I no longer hear my ex’s voice in my head, constantly telling me I’m not good enough. I was supposed to be strong enough to do it on my own. I was supposed to get my shit together ON MY OWN!” I yell, looking down at my lap and blinking quickly to stop the tears from falling that have started to pool in my eyes.
“Hey, look at me,” Eric orders softly.
His hand comes off the back of my seat and he presses his fingers under my chin and tilts my head up to meet his eyes.
“As much as I’d like to take credit for you realizing how amazing you are, I can’t. Yes, I pushed you in that direction, and I gave you the tools you needed to help you remember. But that self-confidence that knocked me on my ass when I first met you was always there, just under the surface, waiting to come roaring back out of you and fuck shit up. You always had it in you. I just helped you find it again,” he tells me, pressing his hand against the side of my cheek.
“Why did you have to be so fucking sneaky about it?” I ask petulantly.
He laughs and shakes his head at me.
“What would you have done if I’d made you stand in front of a mirror and asked you what you see?”
“I would have slit your throat. And while you lay bleeding at my feet, I’d have told you I see someone who loves carbs,” I tell him sarcastically.
“Exactly. And I would have argued with you. I would have told you I see the sexiest woman I have ever met. I would have told you that every time I’m with you, my hands itch to run over your perfect curves, and it took a shit ton of willpower not to fuck you like an animal every time you’re within fifteen feet of me. I would have told you I’ve never wanted another woman more than I’ve wanted you from the first minute I saw you. I would have told you I’ve never met a woman more beautiful than you, inside and out,” he tells me softly. “But you wouldn’t have been ready for that. You weren’t able to look at your reflection and see all those things that I see. I needed to show you and prove it to you so you believed it. Until you could actually hear what I was saying and trust that I was telling you the truth.”
