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TWENTY-SEVEN
SEBASTIEN
“What the fuck are youdoing here?” I opened the door to my loft and found Messina standing there with a bottle of scotch.
It’d been three days since we heard from Rebecca. And Vale. I tried to stay to calm that he had her while Giancarlo fiddled around in fucking Ireland. All while I had to keep a stoic look on my face like nothing could rattle me. Truth? I was hanging on by a thread of sanity.
“Hello to you too.” Messina brushed past me wearing a pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt under a silk suit jacket.
Gruff.
Cocky.
Fucking sexy as hell.
I hated him. In principle.
“Are you here to commiserate with my misery?” I struggled to breathe every sip of air from the moment I woke up to the moment I knocked myself out with a bottle of whiskey. Otherwise, I’d be up all night and a useless sack of shit during the day.
My father had no idea Becca and I were back together. I had to act like someone putting a hit on her and her going into hiding had no effect on me whatsoever.
All while I was dying inside.
“That. And get blasted drunk with you.” Messina held up his bottle then put it on a credenza in my living room. “First things first. We need to take the edge off.”
Anthony slid his black suit jacket off his shoulders and strutted up to me. I balled my hands into tight fists ready to slug him. His eyes caught mine and fire erupted in my gut. Having sex felt wrong without Becca. Except for when he tied me to a dirty sofa and “raped” me in front of losers we wanted to scare. Losers who didn’t know it was me. Or that I loved being taken that way. All of that was a game.
Once we started sleeping with Becca, Anthony and I were able to explore another side to this burning attraction that had been going on since high school. Now Becca either watched us or joined in.
My body needed release. And I was in a fighting mood. Since the first time we crossed that line, Anthony always fucked me.
Time to show him how that felt.
