Page 40 of Takeover

“Do you want me to order in or would you rather go out? I’m really not feeling you in that robe.”

Her eyes widen as she stares at me. I don’t miss the clenching of her jaw.

“Hear me out,” I tell her. “We said one weekend.”

“Yes, we did. And it ended two weeks ago.”

“Right. And thank goodness because it was the worst weekend of my life. You’re awful,” I smile while I wait for her to tell me how terrible I am, but the words never come. She stares at me, arms crossed, and lips now pursed. “As a humanitarian, I can’t in good conscience, unleash your brand of awfulness into the world. Heaven forbid another man should get tied up in your evil web. So,” I announce proudly, “I think I will sacrifice myself and we can just continue seeing each other. I can keep you from contaminating the world with your brand of awfulness.” I smile wide at my wit, but she doesn’t smile back or offer me a witty comeback.

“No, thanks.” She walks out of the room, and I follow her, totally confused. She opens the front door and gestures for me to leave. I grab the door, close and lock it, and for good measure, I add the chain.

I try to pull the sash of her robe, but she steps away from me and heads back down the hall.

“See yourself out,” she says.

“What is your problem?” I ask. I follow her inside her bathroom and watch while she applies more lipstick.

“I don’t have a problem.”

When I put my hands on her shoulders and spin her around to face me, she hisses like a cornered animal and tries to shove me away.

“Clearly you have a bug up your ass. Are you going to tell me what the hell your problem is?” When she doesn’t reply, I cross my arms and say, “I have all night.”

She takes a deep breath, drops her arms, and balls her fists.

“You’re going to hold me hostage in my own bathroom?” she asks.

“You leave me no choice. I come all the way over here to see you, and you’re acting like it’s an imposition.”

She tilts her head to the side and lets out a humorless chuckle. “What does someone like you see when they see someone like me, Ethan?” She looks at me directly in the eyes and crosses her arms again.

I mull my next words carefully. I know a trick question when I hear one. I swallow when I see her undo the sash and drop the robe. She’s in a form fitting and very short black dress. It’s similar to the one she had on when I was here two weeks ago, but this one is shorter.

“Are you going out with your sister?”

“No, but since you haven’t answered my question, let me tell you what you will never see.” She takes a step closer, and even though I tower over her, I step back. “I’m not some damaged female who is so desperate for male attention that I will accept blatant disrespect just to be with a man. I know my worth, so like I said before, you can see your way out.”

I think back to our last time together. She was quiet on the way here, but I spent the entire ride on the phone.

“Was it the spanking?” I drop my voice when I asked that question. “If it was, we don’t have to do that again. I thought you enjoyed it, but— ”

“It was not the spanking,” she yells.

“Then what?”

“Are you purposely being stupid? You want to know what my problem is? I’ll show you. Let me out.” I open the door, she marches past me, and I follow, never once looking away from her ass in that black dress. “Right here,” she says, pointing at the door. “You fucked me right here and before I could put my panties back on you were running out of here as soon as another woman called you. So, no, Ethan. I don’t want to go out with you. I don’t want to stay in with you. You can get the hell out of my house and out of my life. That’s what I want.”

25

I think back to that morning. In fact, I’ve thought of not only that morning, but of that weekend every day since I left here. I still smelled her on my cock hours later. But the exact circumstances that forced me out of her apartment finally hit. Her eyes narrow at me, and I know she knows the exact second that I realize where I fucked up.

She reaches around me, opens the door, and waits for me to walk out, but when I get to the door, I close it.

“It’s not what you think. Lindsay is—”

She raises a hand, signaling for me to stop. “You can stop right there.”

“I want to explain,” I say.

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