“You don’t get to tell me what I get to want. Where my heart lies. You of all people should know...that what I want, I get. And if that’s your broody ass, that’s what I’m going to get.”
I bend down over, aligning my face with hers, throwing on my asshole face because this isn’t happening. “I’ll have security see you out the back way, Miss Shelton, and make sure you get home alright.”
“Don’t bother.” Pivoting on her feet, she scoops up her clothes and leaves me, half-ass throwing on her clothes as she does.
Expecting the door to slam loudly, it only clicks behind her, but I can still feel the ire in her words. The blow to her pride and the animosity she’s going to feel for me afterward.
Reagan can’t be mine—not in this lifetime.
Not now.
Not ever.