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Bull didn’t attempt to stop her, and for that, she was grateful. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in bed, and cry.
She left the stockroom, grabbed her stuff, and didn’t linger to help close up. With her head firmly down, so there was no way for anyone to know what she’d been doing, she pretty much ran all the way home.
There was no quick pit stop at the diner for some food. She made it to her apartment, raced up the steps, twisted her key in the lock, and slammed the door shut, putting all the bolts and locks into place before she crumbled down to the floor.
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t help but touch her lips, imagining Bull’s lips back on hers. It had been one hell of a kiss.
Her body still tingled from his touch. She was on fire with need, but she didn’t give in to it.
Each tear fell down her cheek, and it was a horrible reminder of what a loser she was.
“No one is going to want a fat girl, Maddie. You’ve got to lose weight or accept that you’re alone.”
“Damn it, Maddie, what have I told you? You don’t even fit into your brand-new dress.”
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of you, you’re going on a diet.”
Every other week, her mother had some cruel comment to make about her weight. About how she looked. There was even a time she had told her that she felt like she’d been cursed with an ugly child.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Maddie got to her feet and walked into the kitchen.
She opened her fridge and looked inside. There was some chocolate milk, cheeses, meats, a few pieces of cake, fruits and vegetables.
Maddie closed her eyes, and she pictured Bull’s hands all over her body. The feel of his lips on her chest. Then she saw the flash of the image of herself. How fat she looked. Was he doing this out of pity?
Crying out, she hated that more than anything. She had been a pity fuck once before, and she wasn’t going to be so again.
She grabbed the trash bin and went back to her fridge, where she removed everything but the fruits and vegetables. Then she went through every single cupboard. Rather than throw out the garbage she put in her mouth, she grabbed a spare box and started to load it up. Tomorrow, before she went to work, she’d make a pit stop at the food shelter. She was tired of living this way, of being this person. She had been fat all her life and been told it time and time again, but she wasn’t going to cry about it anymore. Instead, she was going to do something.
She wouldn’t be a pity fuck for another person again.
****
So Marshall Smith happened to be related to a fucking city crime boss. He was far away from home, but Bull had a feeling this wasn’t a coincidence. Marshall Smith was an alias for Craig Ranford Junior. His brother, Willian Ranford, had a very colorful reputation. None of it at all good. Just reading about it gave Bull chills. If it had been anyone else, they might have been terrified, but William wasn’t the first crime boss Bull had to deal with. Of course, blowing out his brother’s kneecaps hadn’t been the smartest move he’d made.
Still, at his request, Rusty had put a reach out at him so they could talk. Now, he had to wait and see.
He wasn’t afraid. It had been a long time since he was afraid of anything.
No, Bull had other matters on his hands, which extended to the pretty brunette currently standing in his reception dealing with some paperwork he’d set her. Maddie was slowly organizing his business. He wasn’t the best person when it came to official documents and all of that shit, and from the miracle she’d done of the reception room, he was more than happy with her to take the reins.
What he didn’t like was the way she had looked last night. Something had spooked her when she’d brought an end to their kiss. One he was fucking enjoying as well. In fact, he had loved getting her shirt off, and her tits nearly out into his palm. He had loved the surprise of her underwear. The lace had looked good on her.
“Boss, you want to come and check over this car?” Pat asked, knocking on his door.
He looked up. “What car?”
“Sweet’s finished the current beauty he was working on. Remember the recover and the branding the guy wanted on his car? You asked for Sweet to come in and do it. Well, he’s done.”
Bull got to his feet. He remembered now. Sweet considered himself an artist, and with the ink Bull had all over his body, he would have to agree. Sweet was mighty with the ink needle, and the work he did on the cars was some of the best Bull had seen.
