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Hmm.
Karson must’ve worked hard to get that to happen since the men definitely did not go with Wren’s aesthetic. That would’ve pissed her off royally. I knew this because I knew Wren took her parties and her ‘aesthetic’ very seriously. I also knew this because she kept glaring at Karson across the room and muttering, ”asshole” under her breath. As much as I really wanted to know the story behind that, I figured asking would be gasoline on a fire.
If I wasn’t angry at Jay, I would’ve just asked him. But I was angry at Jay, so I treated him to some across the room glares and mutters of my own. I also stayed much longer than I would’ve had I not been pissed. I knew that this was not Jay’s scene, not by a long shot. I also knew that he’d made the effort to come because of me. Which might’ve been sweet before all the alpha male possessive bullshit.
It wasn’t right now.
I had two more martinis than I’d planned, threw myself in to conversations with old friends and did my best to look like I was having a fabulous time even though I wasn’t. I was worried about Jay the entire time, which only served to piss me off more. He never strayed too far from me despite my glares and muttering. And when he wasn’t on the fringes of whatever conversation I was having, he was in some kind of man huddle with Karson, his brows furled ever so slightly and his jaw hard.
It didn’t help that he looked absolutely marvelous in his midnight suit and charcoal shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. His hair curled around the nape of his neck, and a few strands fell perfectly across his forehead, accentuating his glittering gaze and sculpted features. Too many women approached him. He needed a fucking wedding ring. Or a sign around his neck that said, “Property of Stella, fuck off.” Wait, wasn’t I mad about the whole jealous, possessive thing?
Not the same I decided.
It was the women, the knitted brows and the unsettled pit at the bottom of my stomach that eventually had me stomping toward Jay and grabbing his arm and whispering, “we’re going home,” in his ear.
He turned from Karson, raised a brow ever so slightly and set my panties on fire with his gaze.
I swallowed roughly. I’d never made such demands of him like this ... it felt foreign. And hot.
Despite this, we didn’t speak on the ride home. Anger still burned through me. Anger at Jay, sure, but also at myself. At the wrong and warped parts of me that had been turned on by his jealousy, by his ownership. I fucking loved being owned by Jay. Parts of me hated myself for loving that.
We might’ve gotten over the whole Felicity thing, but there was no way I could ever forget it. There were also parts of me that loved this. Loved making him feel this way, even though he had no right to be pissed at me. I wanted him uncomfortable, envisioning me with another man, because despite all the healing I’d done, there were times I still saw her. Still imagined her teaching Jay things he did to me.
So yes, I was still burning hot when I got out of the car—definitely not waiting for any man to open it for me—and stormed into our house. I might’ve also been the teensiest bit drunk. And a pissed off sober woman, more often than not, turned in to an absolutely fucking furious drunk woman.
I was taking off my makeup in the bathroom when he came. I’d been expecting it, hadn’t I? Longing for it.
He wasn’t wearing his suit. His shirt was unbuttoned, displaying his olive chest, his impossibly sculpted torso, the Apollo’s belt all the more pronounced because his pants were also unbuttoned.
I steeled myself against all the feelings that came with seeing that and tried my very best to look in the mirror, focusing on the task at hand.
“Are you still angry with me?” he murmured in my ear. His hand brushed over my hip.
“Yes,” I whispered, glaring at him in the mirror. “Furious.”
“Good,” he said. “Lift up your dress and put your hands on the table.
I really wanted to disobey him. I really wanted to walk away, run myself a bubble bath and lock Jay out. But there was no locking Jay out. No ignoring the way my pussy clenched at his tone, at the molten sin in his eyes.
I did as he instructed.
Something smooth and cold ran along my bare skin. My knees shook. I knew exactly what that was. The leather cane that Jay used on me. The one that left raised red welts on my ass and made it uncomfortable to sit for days. The one that I fucking loved.
