“I’m coming over,” he finally says.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
Less than a minute later, he’s at my door. As soon as I let him in, he takes me into his large arms — I feel so safe there. “Why couldn’t you have been there when I was in high school?” I ask him.
He squeezes me harder. “I would have kicked the guy’s ass.”
“I would have loved to see that.”
“He would have ended up in the hospital.”
I reluctantly pull from his arms. “Can I get you coffee?”
“No, I’m just here for you. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
I take his hand and lead him to my sofa. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”
He shoots me a panty-melting smile. “Not that sweet.”
He sits next to me and I waste no time in climbing on top of him. I’ve missed him, and it’s been forever. As Corrie would say, I’m horny as shit.
He grabs my ass. “I’m really glad I came over.”
“Me too,” I say, the words lost against his mouth. “You make me feel sexy.”
He tears the scrunchie out of my hair — it hurts but I love it. My long hair is tangled around the both of us. “Youaresexy.”
“I feel ugly,” I confess. I do. I’d felt so sexy in my little black number and heels, until the moment I opened my eyes and saw Matt Moore standing in front of me. With a single look, I was brought back to all those old feelings, and instantly hated myself.
Oscar tears his mouth from mine, and grabs my face in both his hands, hard. My face is pressed against his, and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always so happy-go-lucky, not-a-care-in-the-world kind of man. But there’s rage in him now. His big brown eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. They’re not so puppy dog now. They’re vicious. My heart skips a beat.
“Don’t ever say that again. Don’t give him that power. Don’t let him tell you how you should feel about yourself. Don’t let him make you hate yourself. You’re stronger than that, Kayla.”
Holy hell, who knew Oscar had that in him. He’s fucking hot when he’s really angry. “Okay, Sir,” I say in my best flirty voice. Enough of this talk, I want him. I reach for the fly of his jeans.
He grabs my ass again. “Tell me you’re beautiful,” he scoffs.
I smile but don’t say a word.
“Say it,” he snaps.
I sigh. “Okay, okay… I’m beautiful.”
He slaps my ass playfully. “Say it like you mean it.”
I laugh. “I’m fucking hot. I’ve got a killer bod, and fabulous hair.”
He finally smiles, and I melt a little. “You do,” he agrees. “And you also have the most pretty eyes I’ve ever seen, and a smile I can’t resist.”
“I have boring brown eyes,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Brown eyes are the best.”
“Yours are.” I’ve always loved his eyes… they’re like melted milk chocolate, the sweetest kind.
He presses a finger against my lips. “Enough talking.”
