Page 36 of Habits

One of my hands slides off her cheek and down her neck, caressing her shoulder in passing, the curve of her waist and hip until I reach her ass. I push her tighter against me, my bulging dick nestling against her lower stomach.

“Shiiiit,” I hiss softly against her lips. Even through our clothes, I can feel her inviting warmth.

Enveloping me.

Provoking me.

Fucking owning me.

Trying to regain even a sense of control, my fingers dig into her hair, pulling her head back.

Her eyes snap open, but it’s not frantic passion that awaits me in her gray eyes.

They’re hard and cool.

Completely unfazed.

Before I can blink out of my daze, her hand connects with my face, the slap resounding hard in the room. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. My hand touches my burning cheek, as I work my tender jaw.

For a girl, she has one nasty right hook.

“I’m not one of your Hill-hoes that you can use and dump as you please.” Her voice is low, too low as she spits the words out. Completely disgusted. The only thing I’m not sure of is if it’s with me or herself.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before she pushes past me and starts walking away.

Frozen in my spot, I lift my gaze only to find big, round eyes looking at me from the other side of the bar.

“What do you think you’re looking at, Rookie?”

Damn him, it’s all his fault.

Dude lifts his skinny hands in the air in surrender. “Not going there, man.”

“You better not.” I give him one last warning stare before I turn on the balls of my feet, debating on what to do.

It’s clear Jeanette doesn’t want anything to do with me.

But for some crazy, fucked-up reason, I can’t get her out of my head. She’s messing with my mind, and I’m starting to think she won’t go away. Not until I fuck her out of my system.

So although I know I most definitely shouldn’t, I surrender to my crazy wishes.

I know I’ll regret it.

I know it’s fucked up and wrong on so many levels.

I know that Max will probably have my ass handed to me if he ever finds out. Which, from the little display a while ago, will probably be sooner rather than later.

Yet, still …

“Jeanette,” I call, running after her.

The music is loud, but I can still see some people turn their heads as I pass by. Let them look. It’s not like I care.

“Andrew.” Grabby hands scrape my forearm, but I brush them off, not caring in the slightest who it is or what she wants.

“Not now.”

I storm out of the living room, where most of the people are, and continue down a much darker, quieter hallway.

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