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Charlotte is tiny all over, from head to toe, while I am curvy, with an extra side of booty. Ma always says I have baby-making hips. I’m starting to wonder if that’s true or not. As I stare out of the window all of the women we drive past are thin. They remind me a lot of the girls that I see on tv or in magazines. It is clear from the population around here that you didn’t need my hips to be making babies. These girls are thin, yet this city’s population is bursting at the seams.
“No,” I clip. I purse my lips ‘cause I don’t like lying. So I blurt out the truth. I don’t say everything but enough that I don’t feel bad about the lie. “I just don’t care to talk to you right now.” I fold my arms over my chest. I knew what the clothes were. He was trying to make me fit in and look like everyone else. I don’t need to fit in. I am comfortable in my own skin. People shouldn’t have to fit into a certain mold. You should be whoever you want to be and that’s it. I’m not knocking people who enjoy dressing like this. It just isn’t the right fit for me. I think I am more upset at the fact that he was trying to make me into something I’m not. I’d gotten it into my head that maybe he was enjoying me because I was kind of different. I knew that was partly the reason why I was enjoying him. He is different than other people I’ve met.
“Baby.” He says it so soft and sweet I almost melt into a pile of goo. My body instantly wants to crawl over and get in his lap, but I manage to control myself. I cut him a hard look that I’ve seen my Ma use on my dad before. My eyes meet his dark, handsome face, which does not help my anger in the least.
“You want to talk about why you’re dressing me like Charlotte?” I throw out. You’d think I’d smacked him again with the look of shock that currently resides on his face. “You got a thing for her?” I raise an eyebrow, knowing I’m talking out of my ass. I knew he didn’t have a thing for her per se. I got that message loud and clear last night and this morning with the way he was acting toward me. He couldn’t stop touching me and complimenting me in front of Charlotte.
I put two and two together and figured out all of Charlotte’s gasping and looks of shock were because she’d never seen Drake act the way he’s been acting with me. That cooled some of my anger this morning while we got ready. It wasn’t too long before it festered back up, though. Each mile we drive in his fancy car is ramping up my negative mood. I’ve been sitting in an outfit that has me tugging at it constantly. I feel so self-conscious in these clothes that self-doubt is starting to creep in. I hate feeling uncomfortable in my skin and he has done that to me. So yeah, I am pissed off.
“I don’t have a fucking thing for her.” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Besides, she’s only twenty—”
“I’d stop right there.” I hold my hand up. “She’s older than me,” I remind him. His eyes rake over my body. I watch as he licks his bottom lip. My eyes can’t help but go there. My face heats, thinking about how he touched me last night. I clamp my thighs together but I can feel a little wetness there.
“I know.” He grits his teeth together.
“Can’t change everything about me.” I roll my eyes and look back out the window, trying to fight the sting that comes to my eyes. Why do I care what he thinks of me? I never in my life cared what someone else thought about what I wore or did.
I feel his finger under my chin as he turns my head to look at him. I try to keep my eyes focused down so he doesn’t see the unshed tears.
“I got the clothes because you’re coming to work with me.” He tells me what I already know.
“Got that.” I try and turn my head back but he doesn’t let me.
“I don’t think you do because you wouldn’t be giving me the silent treatment if you did. I know the types of clothes you enjoy wearing, Delilah. This is not about me trying to make you look like someone else. It’s about my lack of self-control when I’m around you,” he says, lifting my chin so that I have no choice but to stare into his eyes. ”How the fuck would I get any work done today if I know you are in my building wearing those skin-tight jeans that fit your body like a glove?” He shakes his head. “I should have known these clothes wouldn’t even help my situation. You could make flannel fucking hot.” His jaw goes tight. He takes my hand and places in on his hard cock. My eyes go as wide as saucers. My hand starts to rub him over his pants, wanting to feel what I’ve done to him, but he quickly drags it away.
