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I could fuck Poison out of spite and anger, but I don’t even know what’s happening with Shawn and this mystery man yet. That would be premature, and I like to think that as I move closer to forty, I’m not going to just react to shit. That I’m going to think about it first.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Over and over.
I grip her waist, my fingers digging into her skin as I pick her up and stand from the chair. I place her down on her feet, removing her body from mine. Jerking my chin, I reach for the keys and phone that are on the desk.
“What’s happening?” Poison asks, jutting her bottom lip out in an attempt to appear sad or childlike. It doesn’t work, and I don’t like it.
“You are leaving this office. I am going to visit my old lady,” I state.
Her eyes widen, then she takes a step toward me and places her palm on the center of my chest as she looks up at me. I can tell she’s trying really fucking hard to be innocent, but it doesn’t work for me. I’ve seen this bitch fucked by three dudes at once. There is nothing innocent about her.
“King,” she whimpers. “It’s been so long. Just once, for old times’ sake.”
Almost. I almost laugh in her face, but I decide against it. Peeling her hand off me, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and hold it against her side. Then I lean forward slightly and look directly into her eyes before I speak.
“Let it go, Poison. I’m not yours to fuck.”
Releasing her, I walk past her and toward the door, opening it and standing beside it as I wait for her to leave the space. She does, although it’s slow. Way too fucking slow. When she’s next to me. When she’s so close that I can feel her breath on my face, only then does she speak.
“I’ll be yours again soon enough, King. That little girl can’t take what you’re dishing. You need someone who knows what you want, the way you want it, and only a girl like me can give that to you.”
I fight the urge to be an asshole, and it’s quite a fucking fight. Because, on a good day, I’m an asshole, let alone in a moment like this. I want this bitch gone so I can get to my woman and figure out what the fuck is going on. Find out who the fuck is sniffing around my cunt.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
SHAWN
Austin helps me load up the cupcake boxes into the back seat of his dad’s ranch truck. It’s an older truck, a little beat up and clearly used for work. He’s still handsome in that boyish way that I don’t think he’ll ever shake. It’s just who he is.
Once all the cakes are loaded up, he slams the hard metal door and turns to face me. His eyes find mine, and instead of smiling, he’s frowning. He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze focused on mine, and he clears his throat before he speaks.
My stomach clenches, wondering what he could be thinking and hoping that whatever he says next isn’t going to be another blow to my already fragile self. I feel as if I’m on edge, ready to completely crumble at any given moment.
“You don’t look good. I’m worried about you.”
I think about telling him that he doesn’t even know me. He hasn’t seen me in years. How can he be worried about me, and how can he know if I look good or not? But I don’t. He’s doing me a favor, a huge one, so I’m not going to say anything that would upset him. That would be ungrateful.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to put on a fake smile.
It doesn’t work. My lips twitch the entire time. I also can’t hold it for very long. I press them together in an effort not to frown or even cry. I want to cry. Elvis should be the one here to help me. All of this was his idea, and I haven’t had any kind of closure with him. I feel like such an idiot.
“You aren’t. Is it your mother or a guy?” he asks.
I hate how well he knows me. Even though it’s been years since I’ve seen him, he knows me. Shaking my head, I decide that I’m not going to tell him. He’s helping me out, but he’s not my boyfriend.
Maybe he should be.
Maybe I screwed everything up with him all those years ago.
But I can’t stop thinking about Elvis.
I can’t stop thinking about the way his touch makes me feel. The way he looks into my eyes when he’s deep inside of me. It’s perfection. I just wish he didn’t walk away from me like I was nothing.
“All of the above,” I confess. “Along with my brother.”
