Page 113 of Between Now & Heartbreak

But, I wish I’d stayed home. I’ve been watching their table all night.

She’s in a skintight black strapless dress that looks like she was poured into. She’s got that wig back on and her hair falls in waves of blonde silk down her shoulders.

I miss her dark hair. He’s had his arm around her waist all night and she has looked intensely uncomfortable.

I feel like a limp dick motherfucker sitting here watching my girl pretend she’s someone else’s.

She’s with her father andhim,thanking guests. I have no idea why her step-mother isn’t the one playing first lady.

I stand as she does, and trail her through the ballroom. I’m not sure if she’s seen me tonight, but when she looks over her shoulder suddenly and shoots me a coy, suggestive smile, I know she has. My dick gets hard right away.

She sways down the hall, shaking her ass like she wants me to get in there and fuck it.

I want to.

But I’m also pissed.

She slips into the bathroom and I take a quick look around and follow her in and lock the door behind us.

She presses her palms to the counter and lets her head fall forward.

I press my nose to her neck and inhale.

“You smell good, baby. I’ve missed you.” I murmur and she sighs and rests her back against my front, letting me take almost all her weight, like I’m a wall.

I don’t mind one bit. Being her wall, or her anything, is an honor. I just don’t ever want to be her nothing.

Our gazes meet in the mirror and she gifts me with one of her soft, lopsided smiles. It reaches her eyes, but it doesn’t light them.

I frown. “You okay?”

“Just hating tonight,” she says, and there’s a heaviness in her voice and dread in her eyes that remind me of the truth of things as they exist outside this little cocoon we’ve spun for ourselves.

I run my possessive gaze over all of the smooth, creamy tan skin her dress leaves exposed and I have to close my eyes against the thought that he’s going to touch her tonight.

I’m insanely jealous.

I want to mark her in some way.

I want to fuck up her dress.

I want to ruin her makeup.

I want to yank that wig off her head.

I want to fuck her raw and know that my cum is slick and wet on her thighs when she's sitting next to him tonight.

But, I can’t fuck up her entire life because I’m jealous.

But God, I want to.

My lips graze her neck, and she shivers and shifts her hips so that her soft ass presses against my hard dick.

But I don’t move. I’m too hungry. Too angry.

“Carter,” she calls my name and I open my eyes and meet her paradise blues in the mirror again. There’s pleading in hers. She rubs against me and I’m so fucking tempted.

“Please, touch me,” her voice is raw and just above a whisper.

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