Page 64 of Mister Weston


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I finished off my shot, sent Jeff a quick text to make sure he looked out for Gillian on her way downstairs, and then I took off my suit and slipped into the shower.

Letting the warm water hit me on my face, I shut my eyes and wondered how much more liquor it would take for me to forget this mess of a night.

I reached for my soap, but the sound of my shower door opening and closing caught me off guard. All of a sudden, Gillian grabbed my arm from behind and squeezed my bicep, forcing me to turn around and face her again.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She stretched out her arms as if she was about to push my chest, but I grabbed her hands.

What the fuck...

“Does that feel good, Jake?” Her face reddened. “Someone coming from behind you and yelling at you for no reason?”

“Gillian...” I narrowed my eyes at her as the water above fell over the both of us.

“How about if I did it in front of a bunch of people in public?” She was on the verge of tears. “Do I need to wake up all your neighbors and invite them over so we can recreate the same effect?” She tried to break free from my grasp, but I held her still and pushed her against the tile—pinning her arms above her head.

“I think you need to calm down.” I tightened my grip on her wrists.

“Well, I think we need to call my roommate over and have her innocently flirt with you and compare my reaction so you can see how a mature person would react.”

“You consider what you’re doing right now to be mature?”

“I consider it necessary.” Her dress slid down a bit as the water fell harder, exposing the top of her breasts. “This is necessary until I get the apology you know I deserve, or else.”

“Or else, what?” I wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that got under my skin and effortlessly drove up my blood pressure, but if we didn’t end this tonight, I was pretty sure she’d soon have that shit down to a science. “Are you going to fucking talk me to death?”

She was suddenly quiet—a shocking rarity, but seething all the same. Her green eyes were glued to mine and her lips were tightly tucked into her perfect mouth.

“No words?” I asked. “Does that mean you’re finally ready to leave?”

“It means you’re in fucking denial,” she said. “It means you’re a bigger asshole than I could’ve ever imagined. And addictive sex or not, I will never speak to you again.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I won’t.” She swallowed. “I think you like me a lot more than you’re willing to admit.”

“So, you’re not done talking...”

“Regardless of what you claim, you like when I call you late at night.”

“That’s why I hit ignore so often?”

“You like talking to me because you don’t have anyone else, and I know you don’t have any other friends.” She tried to move again, but I didn’t let her. “I think you even like when I try to get to know you better, when I ask you my questions.”

“I hate your goddamn questions.”

“All I want is an apology.” Her voice was firm. “But if you don’t want to give it, it just means you’re a bigger asshole than I ever imagined, and addictive sex or not, I can promise you, I’ll never talk to again.”

“Okay. Fine.” I immediately let her hands go and stepped back. “Step out of that dress and I’ll show you just how fucking sorry I am.”

“What?”

“Take off that dress—excuse me, that piece of a dress, and I’ll happily show you how sorry I am, Gillian. Do I need to repeat it again?”

Silence.

“You can’t seriously think that I want to have sex with you right now...”

“I don’t think you know what the hell you want.” I noticed her nipples hardening through the silk fabric. “And I’m starting to think we’re going to have some problems if you don’t make whatever that is a lot clearer.”

“Jake...” Her cheeks reddened as I dragged my finger against the zipper on the side of her dress. “Jake, I just want you to say that you’re sorry.”

“Take off that dress and I will.”

She stood still staring at me for several seconds, an ultimate stalemate. Her eyes never left mine, mine never left hers, and after what felt like forever, she unzipped her dress.

It fell to the tile floor in a drenched pool of green silk, confirming that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath—making me even angrier that Evan had put his hands on her. She started to stoop down to unbuckle her silver stilettos, but I grabbed her hand—telling her to keep them on.

I pulled her close to me, holding her directly under the water. Without saying anything else, I pulled her down onto the shower bench.

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