Page 58 of Better Not Pout
His jaw flexes as he grits his teeth together but steps in even closer, causing her to step back and me to stand straighter.
“That’s close enough. You know what, actually, we’re just going to leave. Congratulations on your engagement,” Rosalie says evenly.
When she goes to turn around, his hand shoots out, wrapping around her arm. “Wait. Jesus, Rosalie, we can’t even have a conversation?”
“Hands off, dick,” I say roughly, stepping forward. “Clearly, she doesn’t want you touching her.”
He slides his gaze to me but listens and drops her arm, reaching up to adjust his suit, the mask of indifference slipping back into place like it’s nothing.
A humorless laugh pushes past his lips before he rolls them together, nodding. “I see. You can have my leftovers, man. She was never anything memorable. Trust me.”
A haze of red moves past my vision as her face falls, and my fists clench at my thighs.
I’m two seconds away from beating his ass when she straightens, a look of anger shining brightly in her eyes. “Youknow what? Screw you, Bradley. I don’t give a shit what you have to say about me, and the fact that you have something hateful to say after I did a favor for you, one that you did not deserve, because your ego is bruised speaks volumes.” She laughs, devoid of any emotion, and turns back to the champagne in her glass, draining it all before continuing. “It took me far too long to realize that you didn’t deserve me then, and you’d sure as fuck never deserve me now. So do us both a favor, forget I ever existed, and if you see me on Main Street, keep walking. I have nothing to say to you ever again. Oh, and your dick is small. Now that I’ve had him”—she gestures to me, and a wave of pride flares beneath my chest—“I know exactly what I was missing. Honestly, I feel sorry for you. Have a good life in your fake, miserable marriage, and I suggest you learn where the clit is.”
I’m so fucking proud I don’t even bother waiting to slide my arm around her waist and haul her to me, kissing the fuck out of her. My tongue slips into her mouth, and she moans, hands flying to the front of my shirt, fisting into the material.
That’s my girl.
After a second, I tear my lips away and look at dickbag. “Everything she said, but also… if we weren’t here right now, I’d break your fucking nose for talking to her like that.”
A waiter passes by with a tray, and I swipe one of the crystal glasses off, unable to keep the smirk off my face as I turn back to him and toss the entire glass of champagne onto his face, coating that stupid fucking tie and his entire front. “Guess this will have to do.”
Rosalie laughs beside me, reaching up to cover her mouth before whispering, “Holy shit, Wells!”
“Let’s go, baby. You’ve given this fucker enough of your time.”
With that, I slip my hand in hers, tangling our fingers together, and then I pull her toward the exit, away from this bullshit and the motherfucker who never deserved her.
twenty-two
. . .
Rosalie
Sweet Like Caramel
My skin is still practically buzzingwith adrenaline when we walk through the front door of Sweet Sullivan’s twenty minutes later.
“God, that felt… freakingincredible, Wells. Amazing. Electrifying.You know, honestly, I could’ve said so much more, and he should be thankful that I didn’t. It felt so good telling him that and seeing the look on his face as I did,” I breathe after I flip on the lights and take off my coat, hanging it on the rack in the back. “What an asshole. I can’t believe you threw champagne on him.”
Wells shrugs. “At least I didn’t beat the shit out of him.”
“True. Very true. You’re way too pretty for jail. I swear, I could lift a freakin’ car right now. That’s how much adrenaline I have.”
He chuckles. “That’s how it would be for me after a game. There would be so much adrenaline pumping through me that I couldn’t even sit still. Ten years of eighty-two games a season, so I know exactly how to get rid of all that pent-up adrenaline.”
“How’s that?” I ask, noticing how his voice has gone deep and hoarse.
Seductive.
And I’m not sure he’s eventrying.
“Mmm. How about I just show you?” he whispers, moving toward me as I step backward, colliding against the case behind me, jostling the candy inside the jars. Staring down at me, he lifts a brow. “And I just thought of something. Stay right here.”
I nod, even though I’m confused as he turns and disappears into the kitchen, only to return a minute later with…
“What are you going to do with that, Wells?” I barely get the words out, my heart racketing in my chest at what I think he’s intending to do with the large bottle of homemade caramel sauce he’s got in his hand.
