Page 28 of One Little Victory

Honey.

Nine days of knowing this man, and reading that one word had unraveled me like a thread on a cheap blazer. It was one of those rare moments—a moment everyone experienced because it stuck with you and became a core memory, a part of you. No matter our outcome, fake or real, I’d never forget how hearing honey made me feel—the shiver racing down my spine and the upturn of my lips, no matter my mood. Simon gave me that. He gave me a nickname no other man had before. Maybe it was the name he called all his girlfriends, or he felt obligated to come up with one. Whatever the reason, I would always associate that word with him.

I slipped my shoes back on, opened the studio’s back door, and raised my hand as Simon stepped out of his car. The man knew how to wear a suit, but seeing him in a black, short-sleeved tee-shirt pulled tight across his chest and workout shorts was taking things to a level my yoga pants had no chance of competing with. Forearms as thick as his should be illegal, or at the bare minimum considered soft-core porn with what they were doing to my panties. His normal long-sleeved, button-downs were tailored to hug every hard angle, but seeing so much exposed skin made my body flush.

“Ready to get this show on the road?” he asked, wrapping one hand around my waist and pulling me close. His thumb slid easily underneath my sweatshirt and grazed my side as he bent down and kissed my cheek. “I missed you this week.”

My loose shirt became the best idea I’d had all day because his hand stayed on my waist with his thumb moving millimeters back and forth over my skin, almost obscenely.

“I—You… What?” His affection caught me off-guard, but that didn’t stop me from leaning into his body and breathing him in, smelling hints of peppermint and apples. My hands went to his biceps, squeezing them as his tongue, the very tongue I’d been dreaming about, darted out between his lips to wet them.

“See? We already have this relationship handled. Let’s kick this contest’s ass.”

He winked, removed his hand from my waist, and entwined his fingers with mine. I smiled and pressed my lips to his cheek, feeling his shoulder bunch, then relax under my touch. Turning to the open door, I tugged him forward, then stopped when another car pulled into the empty parking lot.

The white beamer parked cockeyed beside my convertible, and Simon’s posture stiffened. His body snapped tighter than an arrow, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Fuck. Go inside, Addison,” he said as his nostrils flared and his grip turned borderline painful.

“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping beside him to see who was in the car. He let go of my hand and took hold of my shoulders, pushing me behind him. As if I’d ever back down from a challenge, I batted his hands away and moved back by his side, crossing my hands over my chest.

“Go inside.”

“No.”

“I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”

“I fucking dare you,” I said, facing him. He didn’t bother hiding behind the emotionless mask. The anger radiated from him in waves, pulsing around him like an unnatural aura. The sound of a car door slamming closed interrupted whatever pissing contest we were in, and I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a giggle as Silicone Barbie marched toward us wearing a white dress four inches too short to be considered decent. A regular person would have jiggled or wiggled, walking on stilettos across the parking lot in a barely-there dress, but not this chick. She was pumped full of so much filler she barely blinked.

“You’re protecting me from this? Is she going to crush me with her tits?” I hissed, moving my hands to my hips as this little bleach-blonde, five-foot-nothing marched over to Simon and stuck her perfectly manicured finger in his face. One side of his mouth twitched before he schooled his features and stared down at her.

Oh, fuck no. No one treats my man like that.

“What the hell, Simon? Your mother and I had it all worked out, and then you went and ruined it! Thank goodness you told her where you’d be today.” She stomped her foot and squealed as she spoke the last word, and I was in danger of biting clean through my cheek with the amount of restraint I was using not to pick this girl up and toss her into next week.

Simon’s expression didn’t change, and other than squaring his stance to block me from her view, he hadn’t moved a muscle. I didn’t need three guesses to figure out this was his crazy ex, but my confidence wavered, looking at the hourglass-figured, perfectly proportioned blonde without a hair out of place. There was no way Simon was into girls like this, right?

“You need to leave. Now.” The alpha, dominant vibes rolling off him had my panties drenched, and if he looked at me and said kneel, I’d be down before his mouth entirely formed the word, waiting for his next order like a good girl.

“No. We should never have broken up, and I don’t believe for one second you’re actually dating this low-class, real estate whore.”

Simon’s body vibrated beside me as he struggled to keep his facade. His sideburns were damp with sweat, and his fingers trembled against his chest. I could see the subtle movement of his jaw and the pulse of a thick vein in his neck. The cool, calm, and collected man on the outside was struggling.

But this wasn’t my argument, and I’d never expect Simon to jump in and defend me. Especially over something that wasn’t technically a lie. There wasn’t a female equivalent of the word playboy that didn’t sound like slut-shaming.

A bead of sweat dripped down his temple, and I followed its trail, my temper reaching a fever pitch. I could get his crazy ex out of his face and out of the parking lot. Little Miss had no idea who she was dealing with.

How dare she make him feel like this?

I stepped in front of Simon and pushed her finger away, earning another stomp and squeak. “No one’s talking to you, bitch,” she said, trying to maneuver her way around me. But that shit wouldn’t fly, not with my five-foot-nine inches towering over her.

“Huh. I suggest you keep your finger out of my boyfriend’s face and yourself out of the sun. No one likes the smell of burning plastic.” I waved my hand in front of my nose like I could smell her implants catching fire and pressed my back to Simon’s front. He wrapped his arm tightly across my chest and over the swell of my breasts. I could feel the heat and tension radiating off his body, and I gripped his thigh with my other hand, hoping it helped relieve his anger.

“Leave my man alone,” she said, looking at me through her fake lashes.

“Oh, sweetie. He’s most definitely not your man.” I reached behind me, cupping Simon’s jaw with feather-light touches. His face was still sticky with sweat, but his hand was warm and dry as he took mine and pressed a kiss to my open palm.

“He’s traded up, in every sense of the word, and hasn’t given you a second thought.” I turned to Simon and ran both hands through his hair. “Right, baby? Or should I say, Thor, my God of Thunder.”

His eyes danced with amusement, but the nickname suited him with the storm clouds brewing behind those soulful gray orbs.

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