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Gabriel Sinclair is back. I bet he stops by the ATM and withdraws a couple hundred and gives it to the cashier to pay for the damage.
It’s a reminder, though, that when I walk out this door, I need to be Ashley Foley. My dress is ripped and I’m not wearing panties, so that’s on-brand, but something inside me has shifted. Like Gabe has found a crack in my chest and wedged it open, and anyone who looks at me will be able to see the black hole inside.
He opens the door a crack before stepping out and motioning for me to follow. Like he expects a gaggle of paps or fans to be standing outside, waiting to pounce. The gas station is still empty, the clerk still glued to his phone.
“Get me a water?” I ask quietly, giving up on the idea of chocolate.
He nods and hands me his keys, but his eyes only meet mine for a fraction of a second.
“Thanks for the hot sex,” I say loudly, and the clerk finally glances up. His jaw drops as he stares at us.
Gabe looks like he could strangle me for that, but this is what he needs for his image and we aren’t going to do it again, so we might as well make the most of this. The surveillance video of us going into and coming out of the ladies’ room and the torn-down condom dispenser are going to be all over the internet soon. Hopefully, the twenty-something behind the counter gets some money for this and doesn’t give it up for free.
I walk out the door, blowing Gabe a kiss.
Riding without panties isn’t allowed in his car, so I open the trunk and pull a clean pair from my suitcase and slip them on right in the parking lot.
A few minutes later he slides behind the wheel, tucking a couple bottles of water into cup holders and dropping a chocolate bar and a packet of wet wipes on my lap. “Eat it before it melts.”
He’s letting me eat food in his car?
“What will a blow job get me?” I ask, staring at the chocolate.
“A mouthful,” he says, then slaps his hand over his face and groans.
I laugh. Maybe Gabriel Sinclair has loosened up a bit.
“Are we okay?” he asks once he’s back on the highway. His eyes ask a different question, as they drop to my ripped dress.Are you okay? Was I too much?
“Better than okay.” I smile and reach over to rub his thigh for a few seconds. “You fucked yourself right out of my system.” And ruined me for all other partners, which I am not prepared to acknowledge in this freshly fucked glow-y world I live in. “Am I out of yours?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and frowns, eyes locked on the road. “Yeah.”
My stomach drops and I take a drink of water in case it shows on my face. He doesn’t look at me anyway.
He’s scratched this itch, and he’s done and I don’t want to be done, but I’m not going to be the one to crack first and beg him for more. A girl’s got to have some pride.
Chapter fourteen
Ashley
Imighthavesomethinglike pride, but I really don’t know when to stop.
Since I want Gabe and he’s done with me, the next day I put on my sluttiest dress and push his buttons all morning. He takes it with a silent stoicism that only makes me more determined to break him.
If I weren’t me, I’d keep my mouth shut. I’d sit quietly or take a nap or play a game on my phone for the millionth time. I’d stare out at the empty landscape around me and not feel the crushing disappointment of beingme.
But I am me. And I’m tired of never being wanted, of always wanting, whether it’s Nic or my parents’ unconditional love or Gabe’s attention.
I shouldn’t even want him. A couple of orgasms should’ve done the trick—he should be out of my mind and I should be satisfied.
I’m not.
Since he’s not taking my bait and I’m getting frustrated with myself and him, I aim to hit him where it’ll hurt most.
“I still can’t believe they cast you as Warwick,” I say with a sigh.
Gabe ignores me.
