Page 74 of Claiming Atlas

Atlas,

You’re so much more than I ever imagined.

I’ll never listen to your music the same way again, and

I’ll never drink champagne without thinking of you.

Thank you for an amazing weekend.

Kayla

xo

“Fuck!” I crumple the paper and throw it against the wall.

Running my hand through my hair, I walk over and pick it up off the floor, then flatten it out on the tabletop. I read it again, just to really drive the pain home.

I’m a masochist if ever there was one.

I read it again, then crumple it into a tight little ball and toss it into the trashcan.

It bounces out.

“Argh!” I stomp over and pick it up, then throw it down into the can again. “Stay there.”

I pick it up again and throw it down one more time for good measure. And because throwing her bullshit little note feels good.

I growl. None of this feels good. Fuck Kayla and fuck her for making me feel this way. Fuck her for making mefeel, period.

Not having feelings is so much damn easier.

I’m adding that to the list of rules I will never break again.

No chasing tail.I have plenty of women begging for my cock at any given moment; this is the last time I pursue anyone. “I’m Atlas fucking Reynolds!” I yell at my room.

No tasting the pussy.No matter how good it looks, or smells, orfeels, there will be no sampling of the goods.

No bareback.It felt too damn good to make that connection with Kayla, and it’s got my head all fucked up.

No coming back for seconds.Atlas Reynolds isn’t a buffet, ladies. Fill your plate once, then it’s time to get the fuck out.

No falling in love.This one is self-explanatory. Fuck falling in love. Or lust. Or even like. I won’t feel a thing for another girl for as long as I live.

Okay, that’s probably a stretch, but I’m serious. I fuck for fun, not for feelings, and definitely not for forever.

I walk into the bathroom and start the shower. I can still smell her on my skin, in this room. Time to wash Kayla Sanders from my life. It was fun, but now I move on.

I crossed Kincaid Summers off my bucket list. That’s it.

It only seemed like more than sex because she’s the first chick I fucked who I had a sort of crush on. Am I too old to say crush? Fuck yes I am.

Moving on.

I pick up the phone in the bathroom and dial housekeeping.

“Good morning, Mr. Reynolds. What can we do for you today?”

I shake my head. The room is underFred Flintstonefor fuck’s sake. “I’m going to be out of the bathroom in twenty minutes. I expect the bed linens changed before then.” I slam the phone back onto the receiver and step into the shower.

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