Page 21 of Dirty, Bruised Martini
I can’t get jack shit done today because I can’t stop thinking about the other night.
How gorgeous you are. How amazing you smell. How tempting you are when I catch you watching me. How curious I am trying to figure out what the fuck you’re thinking when you study me.
But I can’t be an asshole and ask you what you want. Because I’m not a good enough man to be able to hide my disappointment if what you want isn’t me.
I think about you when Jane encourages me again to ask you.
That she’s absolutely, positively sure you’ll say yes. I’m sure too. But even if you say yes, I’m not sure you’ll really mean it. I don’t want your obligation. I want your honesty.
I think about my greedy, greedy cock when you stretch in those tiny shorts.
I truly am a bastard. You asked me if it’s okay if you joined me this morning. The first time since you’ve been home you’ve wanted to run with me again. I could tell you were hesitant. Uncertain and nervous. Tying and re-tying the white laces of your hot pink and lavender running shoes. Warning me that you might not be able to keep up. That you’re not as fit as you used to be. That you haven’t… I fucking hate who you were thinking about—who we were both thinking about—when your voice faded away.
I nodded. Encouraging you to try. Promising we could take it slow. We could walk. Hell, we could fucking crawl if we needed to. Just come with me. You seemed pleased with my enthusiasm. With my willingness to accept whatever you could give. My sweet rosy girl worrying about disappointing me while all I could think about was your legs wrapping around me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I think about that god damn motherfucker when I get the call you asked Garrett to take you out of the house.
For a quick errand you told him you needed to run and the dumb fucker said yes. Motherfucking yes. Breaking the only rule I have that doesn’t give you what you want. Everything else you request is yours.
Except this.
Except going anywhere without me.
Permission never, ever granted for you to leave. I don’t give a damn if it makes me an asshole. I don’t give a damn if I have to kill that fucking bodyguard. I don’t give a damn about anything but keeping you safe.
Shock flooded your eyes when I jerked your door open and hauled you out of the backseat. Realizing your error, you took in the rage on my face and the seven black SUVs surrounding yours. Creating a defensive perimeter only I could penetrate. Which I hope you never fucking forget so you don’t ever pull this bullshit again. I wanted to toss you over my shoulder and redden your ass for disobeying me. Despite my fury, I was in my right mind enough not to manhandle you too much. Instead, I slid my hand onto the gorgeous curve of your lower back and led you to my vehicle.
Holding your hand for support, and because I fucking love you, as you climbed in. Still glancing at the stupid fucker who messed up and all my other men with their guns at the ready. Sometimes I wonder if you think I’m fucking kidding about what I will do to protect you. When you peeked at the closed partition between us and my driver, you realized the only person you needed protection from was me. Too damn late for that rosy girl.
As much as I fucking hate it, I used Jane’s words instead of my own. Trying not to fuck this up. Asking you in a strained yet I hoped calm sounding voice to help me understand why you went to some junk ass dollar store. Please explain your reasoning for making the decision to defy my orders when you know everything you need I will always provide for you.
For a long minute you stared at me. Studying my face, taking in every aspect of my expression before a slow smile lifted your cheeks and you giggled. An actual fucking laugh. ‘You sound like Jane,’ you said.
‘Fuck yes,’ I responded. ‘That’s what I’m supposed to do isn’t it? Use the damn techniques she taught us?’
That made you laugh again. Your beautiful, sweet, glorious laugh, and you asked why I was pretending to be something I’m not. Saying words that aren’t mine.
For you, rosy girl. Every damn thing I do is for you.
The crimson circling your cheeks made my dick twitch.
Ask me, you whispered. Ask me like you really want to.
So I did. I cupped your silky chin, holding your gaze, and inquired why the fuck didn’t you keep your gorgeous ass at home like I told you to, rosy girl?
My cock came to life from the fire flaming in your eyes. Almost exploding from you scooting closer. Your luscious pink lips parted with heavy breaths, with your palms flat on my heaving chest. Leaning closer and closer until your mouth touched mine. Giving me the sweetest, shortest kiss we’ve ever shared.
I ignored everything. The sweat rolling down my back as I fought my waning self-control. The horns honking outside from the traffic snarl my army of guards created. The engine turning over and Gerard driving us home. Disregarded everything except the love in your expression and your head on my shoulder as you curled into my side. I’m so fucked.
I think about you when a long ago order was delivered today.
The kind ladies from the boutique were undoubtedly confused by my lack of enthusiasm. I tried to pretend I was excited rather than terrified. But obviously something is wrong with a bride who doesn’t smile and squeal and sashay in front of the mirror imagining her special day.
Instead, all I could do is shake and stare at the gown as it hung from the ceiling in our bedroom. Fighting against the panic swelling in my chest from remembering all the times I hung from the ceiling in his bedroom.
A little over a month away. We never officially canceled. We never officially confirmed. The ceremony. The reception. The honeymoon. I don’t know if I can offer myself like this to you in front of a church full of people. I don’t know if I can accept the commitment you want to give me. I don’t know if I can consummate our marriage.
I failed to keep my voice from cracking when I asked them to take it back. Please return the beautiful garment I once loved. Hoping you’d love it too. Wanting to be gorgeous enough I’d take your breath away. Maybe even see our daughter wear it someday.
