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ButI can’t marry Devin when my heart isn’t one hundred percent with him and wants someone else.
I texted Maliki an hour ago, but he hasn’t replied. He’s turned into a master of avoiding me. Every night I went to the bar, Liz said he was gone.
Until now.
Earlier, as my stalker ass had done for the past week, I drove past the bar’s back lot. Tonight, Maliki’s car is parked in his spot.
He’s back.
It’s a sign, and him being home is all I can think about. When I went over last-minute arrangements with my wedding planner, I merely nodded, not paying attention to what changes she’d made. I canceled the bridesmaid sleepover at my house, claiming I wasn’t feeling well, and told my mother I needed alone time.
I need to see him. I’m about to turn my life upside down.
I unlock the door to the pub and walk in. Maliki gave me a key pre-engagement. Sometimes, I would come to the bar after closing and let myself in.
The jukebox is statically playing a song I don’t know, and I don’t see Maliki.
Weird.
He usually turns off the music promptly at closing, in need of peace.
What’s also weird is, the bar isn’t cleaned. Trash litters the tables and floor, the stools are randomly thrown around the room, and the bar top isn’t wiped down. I slip the keys into my purse and head toward his office, hoping to find him there.
I freeze when I hear it.
“Yes! Harder!”
It’s a woman’s voice. A woman’sbreathlessvoice.
Nausea rises up my throat, but I talk myself down. Whoever is in the office is fucking, but it can be anyone—Mikey, Liz, or hell, even a cook.
I’m praying for any of those alternatives to Maliki as I stupidly migrate closer to the office.
“Oh my God, Maliki!” she cries out. “Your dick is amazing!”
Well, there goes that hope.
“Fuck,” a man groans out.Malikigroans out.
My heart splinters into shattered fragments, and I can barely breathe as I push myself to continue in their direction. The echo of smacking skin is screaming at me in warning to run, but I can’t.
I have to see.
I cover my mouth, in fear of vomiting and making a noise. The office door is cracked open, and my weirdo self peeks through the narrow crack.
A dark-haired woman is spread naked on the desk. Maliki is standing between her long, tan legs, just as exposed. Their moans continue, and I can’t walk away.
Then, my attention shifts to only him. His chest is beautifully sculpted with muscles, and sweat glistens his abdomen. I can detect his cock pumping in and out of her, but the desk cuts off my view from eyeing anything lower.
The desk moves with each thrust as he wildly fucks her. He reaches forward to skim his palms up her chest and squeezes her breasts—breasts that are fuller than mine.
I’m comparing every inch of myself to this woman.
“Shit, I’ve missed you,” she moans. “I love you so damn much.”
She lifts herself up on an elbow, reaching for him, and he leans down, smashing his mouth to hers, devouring her.
Tears hit my eyes. I’ve never experienced hurt so hard. I taste bile and anger and hate toward Maliki and this mystery bitch for taking what I crave to be mine.
