Page 38 of Off-Limits
“That doesn’t answer my question, whore.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“How didyournight end?” I deflect.
“Uh no! You are not getting out of this. Talk.”
“Gah, I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I return her smirk.
“Not even a little bit.”
She rolls her hand in a hurry up motion.
“Argh. He said he could see my nipple ring through my top. It went downhill from there, and he turned into a depressing and desperate Harry.
“Oh my God,” Arrie laughs, and I glare at her. “How do you find these guys?”
I grin at her.
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it, girl, and you know it.”
“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Did you get nasty last night?”
“Dottie!” she whisper yells, glancing over her shoulder. “What if my dad is still in his room?”
“We both know he’s not.”
“Still.”
“Well?”
“We’re taking it slow.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I will tell you more when I have something to tell you.”
“If you say so, but your cheeks say otherwise.”
Arrie’s hands move to her cheeks, and I know she can feel the heat.
I give her a knowing grin.
“I’ll let you keep your secrets for today, but right now, you need to fuck off so I can get ready for the day and hopefully kill this headache in the process.”
I spendthe entire day trying to keep my mind occupied. The visit to my parents is a raw, festering wound, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about the situation. Do I put my shit behind me, and try and approach them again, mending whatever our fractured relationship holds? Or do I sulk home, with my tail between my legs and more trauma, guilt and pain weighing me down?
I’m not sure what I’ll do, but for now, I focus on what I can control. I finish working on some sketches and finalising the mural.
Staring at his message for the umpteenth time, the door bangs open and an angry Damon walks in. He doesn’t look at me, but he does throw his keys on the entry table, kick off his boots, and walk toward the kitchen.
After a few minutes of him banging, clanging, and cursing, I find him leaning back in a chair at the small dining table with no shirt on and a glass of whiskey. His legs are stretched wide, and he’s taken off his socks, as well.
