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The toilet flushes before the shower starts, and it makes me wonder if the women he’s been with in the past have been treated the same way or if he’s being extra shitty toward me.
I do my best not to internalize his irritation as I climb out of the bed and sweep my robe up from the floor. I spend as much time as I can pulling it back on, but I don’t think giving him more time is going to have him changing his mind.
Five minutes after the water turns off, and he still hasn’t emerged from the bathroom, I know his thoughts on the subject.
I leave his room, rushing down the hallway when my phone starts to ring.
“Hello,” I answer, getting ready to make excuses before Anthony even speaks.
“Are you guys stuck in traffic?”
“I meant to call you,” I say, growing increasingly agitated with Aro because it’s not my place to cancel his appointments. There’s nothing wrong with his damn voice or fingers that would prevent him from being a damn grown up. “I don’t think—”
Aro appears in the doorway of my bedroom, his eyes distant and cold. “I’ll go to PT.”
“We’re running a little behind today,” I tell Anthony.
“I can still get in half a session but we’ll have to cut off at the regular time,” he says.
We say our goodbyes and I rush to get dressed. The petty side of me wants to tell Aro he can find a different ride to therapy, but I hold on to that part of me that always needs to help others.
“We have to leave now,” I tell him as I enter the kitchen.
Aro slams the fridge door before making an effort to turn around.
I swear to everything holy if he mentions me not making him breakfast, I may let all of my humanity fly out the window and claw his fucking eyes out.
“I’m not going to regret what we just did,” I begin. “And it would be a fucking shame for you to regret the best sex I’ve ever had.”
He doesn’t speak as he shuffles past me, but I don’t miss the small smile on his lips.
The egotistical response makes my belly flutter, and by the time we make it out the door and to the car, I still haven’t decided whether I want to drop it or choose violence where he’s concerned.
What I do know is that he never told me it was great for him too.
Chapter 18
Aro
I feel like I’m stuck in the fifth circle of hell—anger.
I’m angry at the world, angry at myself.
I’ve had a horrible fucking couple of weeks.
PT has been more taxing than it ever should be on my body. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that before I got hurt, I could run five miles and carry on a conversation without getting breathless. I’ve gotten better, been able to do more, but I still don’t see it as a victory when I’m still hot and sweaty after an hour of fucking trying to walk across the room with a stupid cane.
I haven’t gone to counseling, maintaining that the meditation is helping when I know damn well that it’s Slick’s kisses and the way she rides my cock after I freak out that is working.
I know I have to eventually work through my shit. It’s not like I can have someone around to fuck each time those thoughts and memories threaten to make me lose my mind. Her… not someone. I can accept that she is the best fit for the job, but eventually, she’ll have to go back to work.
Kincaid still hasn’t called, and if I didn’t know that he was at the hospital in Houston, I’d question what type of man he actually is. I honestly anticipated more visitors, but I’ve only seen Ugly that one time he came to see me.
Of course I talk with several of the guys on the phone, but Spade, Hound, and Grinch aren’t Kincaid. They always either avoid the question altogether when I ask about coming back to Cerberus or they say they haven’t heard anything.
I haven’t called Kincaid myself, but it’s only because I’m trying to bust my ass so he’s more hesitant about delivering that final blow.
I’m still sitting on the damn couch thirty minutes past meditation freakout, five minutes post fucking Slick, or should I say Slick fucking me because my balance is too fucking shitty to get her off if I’m on top. We tried that last week, and it wasn’t working. It didn’t feel like a pity fuck until it was over.
I glare down at the full condom clinging to my spent cock in disgust.
I know we shouldn’t continue doing what we’re doing, but I always feel better for a little while after I empty my balls.
I try to convince myself that we’re using each other rather than it being one-sided. She’s said more than once that sex with me is better than any sex she’s had before. It doesn’t feel like an attempt to stroke my ego. There’s no way to fake the way she responds when I’m inside of her. Her honest reactions while riding me came as a surprise. Slick is always one to think before she speaks, and maybe that’s the doctor side of her, the one that has to worry about the repercussions of her words when dealing with mentally fragile people.
