Page 54 of Promiscuous Lies

Dutton: I’m waiting for mine…

I’ve tried my hardest to ignore him but can’t help but smile at the message even though I don’t respond. I don’t need to give him answers when men have avoided doing that for me so often in my life. And I’m still unsure how to handle Dutton. He’s crossed the boundary I set that separates sex from becoming something more. It terrifies me that Bentley has met him because he’s asked about Dutton more than once. I don’t want him getting attached to someone who will unquestionably not be around for long.

I’ve come down from the high of going to Boston. The reality is, there’s no way Bobbi can track me back here, and that offers me some sense of security. But it doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable with the fact that he’s still there, keeping an eye out for me. I know it’s not out of love but rather his need to control people and situations.

At times, he’d even use physical force to get me to agree to things. It’s why I have such an issue with Dutton being so bossy. The difference is that I know Dutton would never physically hurt me, and although he intervenes at times, I still very much get my own way on many things. Dutton provided me with a job that included a pay rise and promotion, whereas Bobbi would only take and take, so I had no choice but to depend on him.

The men, in that regard, couldn’t be more different. And I hate that I even compare them. As furious as I am with Dutton putting a tracker on my car, which is the wildest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, I’m also grateful. I don’t believe in coincidences, but I definitely think there’s something to the timing of when certain people appear in your life. Dutton literally appeared when I needed someone most. And maybe that’s why I hated it so much: because he saw my weakness and my fear.

He saw my vulnerability in an old life that I no longer live. What if he pities me? What if he thinks less of me?

Then again, I don’t care what Dutton thinks of me in that regard. And with the number of messages he sends, I know we’re far from done, even when I try to push him away.

He’s as tenacious as he is patient.

When I ignore a few more messages and only answer the ones regarding work, he sends a bold demand.

Dutton: Either you hire a babysitter tonight or I will. You’ve been avoiding me at the office, and I will come to your door and collect you myself.

I wring my hands in the air, wanting to choke the life out of the determined fucker. I’ve enjoyed that he’s been respectful enough not to arrive at my door again since that night, but now he’s pushing my buttons. But I know he’ll stay true to his word and most likely arrive on my doorstep.

And if I’m being honest… I’ve fantasized about Dutton ever since the night we spent together before I went to Boston. How can a girl not when a man gives her that many orgasms?

I bite my bottom lip as I check in with Amy. She’s available to watch Bentley tonight.

I tap the edge of my laptop as I sit at the kitchen table, finishing up my work for the day.

I’m out of my fucking mind for considering meeting him tonight. But my toy can’t compare to the way my boss knows how to make my body come undone. I wanted to do more things forme. To have fun. And as much as I try to ignore him, I’m a glutton for punishment. Literally.

I reply.

Me: What time?

He replies immediately.

Dutton: I’ll pick you up at six.

Me: Don’t get out of the car. I’ll come to you.

Dutton: Wear the blue lingerie set I got you.

I roll my eyes. I know I shouldn’t be attracted to him, but no matter how much I remind myself of that, I can’t seem to stay away from him. And I’m not sure if I’m entirely ready to let go of the fun we might have. It is, after all, the best sex of my life. Don’t I at least deserve this one thing?

CHAPTER 27

Dutton

“Iassume most women would expect me to arrive at their door with flowers,” I say as she runs out to my car, looking more like a teenager sneaking out of her home.

She closes the door behind her. “Not a mother who doesn’t want to expose her young and impressionable son to a dangerous man.”

I smirk as I put my hand on her inner thigh, curious about what she looks like beneath the loose, light-blue dress. I pull away from the curb.

“You think I’m a bad man?” I ask.

“Would you say the things you do to my body are good?” She arches a brow at me.

“If I recall, you beg for it at times. Isn’t that why we’re here right now?”

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