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Ivy
Thescribblednoteon the door of Mad Love Couture read “Back in thirty minutes.”
Considering it wasn’t even lunch hour, it struck me as odd that my mother’s boutique was closed.
It was my day off from Mad Love, but because I had a date, I needed something new to wear.
My shoulders slumped, and I sighed. Why was I dragging myself out on another Tinder date?
The answer was simple: I needed a distraction from Chase Elliot, the guy messing with my head. My now former friend with benefits was so insanely hot that I’d taken him whichever way I could.
But to have his profile on Tinder? After hooking up with me almost every night for the past two months?
I’d removed mine, but he’d kept his.
I should have known letting him back into my bedroom would spell trouble. After months of dating Mr. Wrongs, I’d lowered my guard.
All it had taken was a cute smile and that lingering “come and fuck me” gaze, and I was unbuttoning, or more accurately, clawing at, his designer shirt.
Patience was never my strong suit.
We had a history too.
I met him a year ago at his mother’s birthday of all places.
We’d spent two heart-pounding months filled with toe-curling orgasms and dirty whispers wrapped around each other’s insatiable body. But when the ghosts of Chase’s past hookups started haunting us practically everywhere we went, I’d bolted for the sake of sanity.
Had I gotten over him? No way. If there was a nicotine-patch equivalent to avoiding hot, well-endowed bad boys, I would have them plastered all over me, especially over my nipples and pussy.
Chase was bad for me.
He was like a drug. An obsession that I could only blame on hot sex, witty banter, and the best eight weeks of my dating life.
After we broke up the first time, Chase had kept calling, tormenting me with that seductive husk and smooth tongue. All year long.
I’d bumped into him at Absinthe eight weeks ago, we’d started dating again, and I was hooked. Again. The agonyofourfirst breakup had become a distant memory as he pounded me with his large dick.
When curiosity got the better of me, I scrolled through Tinder and stumbled on Chase’s teasing dark eyes.
I’d decided that two could play this game, and here I was at my mother’s shop, looking for a nice dress to wear for a date with a guy I just swiped right on.
I used my key and entered the boutique, and in need of the bathroom, I raced to the back room.
My mother was there, I quickly discovered.
She was on the couch.
And she wasn’t reading a book, painting her nails, or watching hot, brawny males rescuing dolphins on her laptop. She was with…
Holy shit.
A young man.
That shouldn’t have come as a surprise. My mother wasn’t exactly shy when it came to hooking up with younger men.
But he wasn’t just any guy.
“Holy fuck,” I muttered under my breath and raced out of the shop. On the crowded sidewalk, I almost collided with someone carrying a take-out coffee.
