Page 22 of Taste Of You

Seven

This is a mistake. We are a mistake. You’re a fool for walking out on her.

Even from my place on the other side of the door, I can hear her sniffles, the small sob that escapes her chest and rips mine wide open. I hurt her.

Now. Then. Always will.

She’s infatuated with me, while I want a forever. This is crazy and makes no sense—we’re at two very different stages of our lives—and yet, I want it. To hold her. Kiss her. Make her mine.

I’ve never done anything like this before.

God, those words were like a bucket of freezing water over my head, as pure volcanic lava flowed through my veins. I know she’s a virgin, but the knowledge that she’s never so much as had a man’s mouth between her thighs, broke me. It destroyed my rationality and left me a barbaric asshole wanting to beat his chest while I held her close.

Two emotions mixed, and my anger won. How could she not tell me this?

Millie is young and innocent; she shouldn’t want me. She deserves better. Someone whose thoughts aren’t full of depravity and hunger—that doesn’t want to break her will and put her together again under his guiding hand.

I want her to need me and only me. No one else ever.

To crave my touch, my cock. Worship me like I’ll always do her.

“What a fucking mess,” I groan out, pulling on my hair in frustration. I’m hard, horny as fuck, and her taste still lingers on my tongue. “She’s going to hate me for this.”

More than she did earlier when I took her tables and gave them to Ana. More than she did after I ignored her for days on end after our first kiss. A kiss that stole from me the little thread of sanity I tried to hold on to.

When she came in tonight, her eyes searching for me, everything felt right. Brown on blue, our stares connected and what was dreary, brightened. My chest expanded, and cock twitched when she sent me a warm smile.

But then the guilt hit. Three minutes after walking through my door, Ana explained the change and her entire demeanor shifted. Jesus, the hurt in her expression still plays in my mind.

Betrayal. And once again, remorse hits me all over again, the same feeling that has followed me around since I drove away from her building.

Somehow, though, this time is worse.

Just go in there and talk to her. Explain yourself and make her understand that—

Two things happen at once then; the knob to my door turns, and a scream bellows through the bar. Fuck, I want to stay and talk things out, but responsibility calls and I take off.

I walk right into a jealous cat fight and miss her slipping through the bar and out the door. Once everyone is sent on their way and put into cabs, my reality slams into me with an unforgiving force.

Her exit feels wrong. Final.

As if she will not be back, and my chest hurts.

“She has a shift tomorrow. She’ll be back,” I mutter under my breath, but I know it’s a lie. Millie is going to quit on me, and I realize how bad of a mistake I have made.

I can’t make it. ~Millie

Same text as yesterday. For two days she has called out without an explanation. Nothing. No apologies either; she simply doesn’t care.

That, or she’s busy interviewing elsewhere.

I’ve tried contacting her; calling, texting, even going so far as to drive by her school after her last class yesterday to catch up with her. Not that it did any good. Millie didn’t go to class, or she saw my car and ran.

She’s avoiding me, and I don’t blame her.

Please call me, Millie. I’m worried. ~JetA

Placing my phone down on the bar top, I go back to taking inventory of what’s up front. There’re a few bottles that need replacing, and others need ordering. Usually I leave this for Ben, but I can use the distraction while my phone remains silent.

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