Page 23 of Always Been Mine

Gabe shook his head.What the fuck, Sullivan? Tucking tail and running already?

The alcohol not only made him a limp dick, but stupid as well.

As if the fates were taunting him further, a redhead squeezed in next to him.

“Buy me a drink, sugar?”

Gabe glanced at the woman briefly before nodding at the bartender to give her a drink on his tab.

“Thanks,” the redhead gushed when her prissy concoction was served. She pressed her breasts against Gabe’s arm. His cock stirred. Not a whiskey dick after all.

“I’ve been watching you,” the redhead said. “Looked like you could use some company.”

Gabe didn’t say anything, just simply took a sip of his whiskey. He should just order the whole damn bottle.

“Not much of a talker?” This time her hand went on his thigh and started inching up, destination unmistakable. Gabe didn’t stop her. He glanced at her, taking in her red hair. She was attractive enough, a bit too much makeup for his taste. His eyes rested on her mouth, which tipped up in a knowing smile. “I can show you a good time, sugar.”

Gabe chuckled as he returned his attention to his drink. “Not here for that, hon.”

The woman’s giggle grated on his nerves. What the fuck was he doing? Why was he allowing this woman to fondle him?

Her breath fanned his ear. “I think I can change your mind.”

She finished the last of her drink and jerked her head in the direction of the back exit, coyly walking away.

Gabe stared at the remainder of his whiskey for a beat. He slugged it back and pushed away from the bar. He left a couple of bills to cover their drinks and followed the redhead.

Sunday early morningwas a relatively quiet drive up the Beltway. Gabe guided his SUV toward Chevy Chase,Maryland. He felt like shit. His head was pounding, and the sunlight was too bright even while wearing his sunglasses. He deserved this hangover from hell.

He nearly wrecked what he had tried for months to accomplish—being the man who Beatrice deserved. In a pathetic attempt to erase her cruel rejection and to soothe his shredded ego, he contemplated letting another woman suck him off.

In the back alley of the bar, the redhead pushed him against the wall, reminiscent of how Beatrice came on to him the night before. When the woman tried to kiss him, Gabe buried his fingers in her hair, and that was when it hit him.

Rough, wiry hair.

Not Beatrice.

The madness stopped instantly. He was jolted out of his drunken stupor, his erection deflated, and he walked away with no small amount of self-recrimination. He was spiraling between his past and present. He couldn’t find his purpose. He quit his job to be with the only person who could anchor him, who could prevent the darkness from sweeping him away, but she didn’t want him. Hated him in fact.

Angel of Death.

“You won’t feel a thing. I’ll be quick.”

Gabe shook the images away and spotted the exit for Chevy Chase. He really shouldn’t be doing this, but he needed a reminder that even when he was at his vilest, he had a shred of humanity left. He pulled into a relatively affluent neighborhood and parked a couple of cars up from a Tudor-framed house. He waited, sipping from a thermos of hot coffee he had brought with him.

Two hours later, a boy of about fifteen emerged. He was bundled up in a hoodie and an overlay jacket, wearing jeans and sneakers. He was dribbling a basketball on his way to the side of the house. There was a ring fixed at the center of a two-car garage.

The boy started playing hoops.

Gabe watched.

“Here’s your coffee, hon.”

The barista handed Beatrice her order. It was good to leave the condo this morning because she had remained holed up in her unit all day Saturday after her disastrous encounter with Gabe. Something wasn’t sitting right with her. She should be feeling the sweet triumph of revenge, not this unsettling guilt for what she had done.

She ran a couple of miles this morning to clear her head, trying to remove the unsavory taste of how she left Gabe so callously. He did the same to her, why couldn’t she pay him back in kind? Damn it, why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? He was forcing her to become the biggest bitch in history. The stricken look on his face right before she turned away almost made her reconsider. If he wasn’t all hard-ass male perfection, that would have been a kicked-puppy look. Why did he have to remind her of how good he was with his cock? He filled her perfectly, stretching her between the point of pleasure and pain, and hammering out her orgasms effortlessly.

Nowhere near serene and still as conflicted as ever, Beatrice walked into the lobby of her condominium. An anxious concierge rushed toward her.

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