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Chapter Thirteen
A CROOKED DICK
Kenzie
When I get backto work from the fundraiser meeting, I head straight to my office. I haven’t had any time to hang anything on the walls, but I smile when I see the picture of me, Ella, and Piper next to my computer screen. Our girl’s night had been just what we all needed, and I was already itching for another one.
Partly because I could never get enough of my best friends and also because, at the moment, it felt like I couldn’t get enough distractions to keep from thinking about Bentley.
Joyce asked so many questions about him when I showed up early for the meeting. I didn’t know how to answer half of them, and her inquisitiveness made me believe she was frustrated, but there’s no telling if that was because of me or the man in question.
When he finally showed up, I avoided his gaze and got the hell out of there before he could either pretend that I didn’t exist or say something to piss me off.
Now, I’m wondering if that was the right choice. He was polite to me in the emails. Maybe I’m making more of a thing out of this than I should be. We’d had sex. Big deal. It wasn’t like it was the first time for either of us.
Except I can’t stop thinking about said sex.
I know that’s my problem. I don’t want to get to know Bentley any more than I have to. I don’t want him to reject me again or to know he’s actually a nice guy behind his grumpy demeanor.
I just want to move on and find someone who can give me orgasms like he did, but isn’t a complete dick.
Once I’m seated at my desk, I dig my phone out of the black hole that is my purse and see I have a text message. Shit. Not from who I expect, either.
Fucker: I wanted to talk to you after the meeting, but Joyce needed to speak with me. Can we meet for lunch this week?
Maybe “Fucker” is a bit dramatic for his contact info, but what can I say? The man hurt my pride.
Me: I can make tomorrow work.
I set my phone down and log into my computer. By the time my email is pulled up, I’ve glanced at my phone a dozen times to see if he’s responded.
Maybe lunch isn’t such a good idea. Maybe sticking to email would be better. I don’t trust myself not to say something he doesn’t need to know if we’re alone together.
Me: Never mind. This week doesn’t work.
Fucker: I just made reservations at Charlie’s for 1pm tomorrow.
Our messages come through at the same time. So, he wasn’t ignoring my response, he was reserving a time with the restaurant. Damn it. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.
Fucker: Don’t cancel on me.
Fucker: Please.
For the love of all the dildos in the world. He just saidplease. How am I supposed to ignore that?
I can’t. I should, but I can’t.
Me: Who are you and what did you do with the asshole?
Fucker: I deserve that. I’ll try to be less of an asshole in your presence for lunch.
Joyce must have said something to Bentley. I don’t trust this nice guy act, but I am curious. Just enough to make me ignore the potential consequences of said curiosity.
Me: I’ll meet you at Charlie’s at 1pm tomorrow.
Fucker: Thank you, Kenzie.
My core tightens, and I try not to picture his rigid cock in the shower when I shove my phone across my desk. I have too much work to get done today. I can’t think about Bentley anymore. At least, not until tomorrow afternoon.
