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“Erm…” She pauses. “Yes. Sorry, but you never listen to me. Maybe you should listen to Linc.”
“Un-fucking-believable!” he explodes. Belle winces, and I see red.
Grabbing the front of his jacket in my fist, I shove him through the open doorway of my office, back out into the reception area.
“Get the fuck out!” I bark. “And lose her number, too.”
“Jeez, you fucking psychopath, chill the fuck out! You’re welcome to one another, you can be cheap, tattooed trash together.”
He slams the door so hard, I’m sure the glass is going to shatter.
“You shouldn’t have done that. I can handle Aston,” Belle says, still staring at the door where that asshole stormed out. I swear I can hear the bell on the door still ringing in my ears.
“Ass-ton? His name is Aston and he behaves like that? Don’t tell me, he drives an Aston Martin too?” Belle grimaces, and I groan. “I knew it.”
“His real name is Gaston, but no one calls him that.”
A deep belly laugh escapes me.
“What?” She frowns, placing her hands on her hips and giving me a defiant stare. Oh, now she brings the fire. At me.
Belle cocks her head, considering me while I continue to snicker.
“No wonder he didn’t want to let you go, Gaston is about to be the winner of the no-Belle prize.”
A smile tugs at her lips, and I quickly switch tack. I close the door to my office and cross the room to where Belle has returned to staring at my canvas.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“You are,” I tell her. “Even more so than the last time I saw you.”
“I—”
“Let’s take a look at the damage, then,” I say softly, making her jump when I place my hands on her shoulders.
I carefully slide her cardigan down her arms and let it pool on the floor. She’s wearing a backless top of some sort, one which shows off her ink, and I can see it’s almost exactly how we left it, only healed.
“This looks perfect,” I tell her, tracing my fingers over the design on her right shoulder blade and stepping even closer to inspect it. It doesn’t look like anyone’s touched it, so I have no idea what her ex-boyfriend was ranting on about. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing.”
“But Ass-ton the ex said—” I make sure to emphasize the ex. She needs to know she’s very much done with that boy. She needs a real man…or three. The others are going to blow their minds when I tell them about this. I can’t — won’t — let her slip through our fingers again.
“He was a dick, okay?” She surprises me by crying passionately. “He hated my tattoos and was always getting at me to have the back piece lasered off. Hell, I think if it wouldn’t leave me scarred, he’d make me get them all removed! We used to fight about it all the time.” He’s just like Linda, then.
“I see,” I murmur against her ear, unable to stop touching her now that I’ve started. I caress her back with one hand and slide the other round to grip her hip. “What else did you fight about?”
“Everything. Work. Friends. Socializing…S-sex,” she whispers as I stroke my thumb over her hipbone.
“What about it? He couldn’t make you come, could he? Never made you scream?”
“No. It was never any good.” She swallows, and the action makes my dick harden instantly. I have no regrets for what I just did, getting rid of that asshole. If he had a girl as amazing as Belle and didn’t know how to handle her, it’s definitely his loss.
“So why the hell were you with that guy?” My fingers dance lower down her back, teasing the edge of her skirt, longing to dip below the material to trace the outline of my tattoo. The one that dips down onto her delectable ass.
“Because he wasn’t very good at hearing no,” she whispers, sounding weak. Not like the Belle I met in Miami.
It riles me, but I refuse to be distracted from Belle right now. Disney douchebag can wait, but I will be seeing him again and having words with him when I find out what she means. For now, though, Belle’s getting all of my attention.
