1
Reese
“Don’t touch me,” I seethe, glaring at my boyfriend’s massive hand that’s gripping my bicep.
“Babe––”
“Let go of me right now, Ian, or so help me, I will kick you in the balls.”
“Reese, baby, come on…” His tone makes my gut tighten. All the moments he’s used this voice with me.
Reese, baby.
Come on, baby.
I love you, baby.
I am not his baby anymore.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I whisper, “I can’t even look at you right now. How the hell do you expect me to stay and talk this out, Ian?”
“Babe…,” he tries again.
“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything at all. Will you just let me go?” I tug my arm out of his hold.
“You can’t run from me, Reese,” he challenges, blocking the front door with his half-naked yet still massive frame. He’s always been more of a burly bear than anything else, and it seems he’s using it to his advantage against his helpless little girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend.
Bastard.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he continues, lacking any real remorse. “It was a mistake. You were never supposed to find out.”
I scoff before shaking my head while ignoring the mistake who’s still hanging out in our freaking apartment. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? Really? That’s the apology you want to go with?”
“That came out wrong––”
“No, it didn’t. It came out the exact way that it was supposed to.”
“Look, if you would just let me explain––”
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “Go for it. I want to hear aaalll about the late-night text messages, the canceled dates, the no-shows at work when I had to lie to your brother’s face because you were too inconsiderate to show up for your shift. Or maybe you can tell me why I came home to see a girl in our kitchen with wet hair while you were finishing up in the shower with the bathroom door wide open. Would you like me to go on?”
He groans before rubbing his hand across his tired face. “Listen––”
“Nope. I changed my mind. I’m done. Like done, done. Now, move out of the way before I really do hit you in the balls like I so desperately want to.”
“You won’t even let me talk!” he snaps. His anger is finally boiling over, but right now, I don’t give a damn.
Going head-to-head with the beast in front of me, I spit, “That’s because I don’t care what you have to say.”
I can see the indecision on his face. The slight twitch of his lip begging to curl in disgust. The tension in his jaw. The iciness in his gaze. Still, I hold strong and refuse to cower. He really is an ass. After another few tense seconds, he caves and moves over a few inches.
“Don’t be a bitch, Reese. It’s not sexy.”
There’s a small gap between him and the door, but I know I’ll have to touch him if I have any hopes of squeezing through it, which is exactly what he wants. To make me squirm. To make me uncomfortable. To make me feel weak.
How did I not see what a bully he is?
I shift my gaze from the tiny gap and up to his red face. “We both know you’ve never seen me as sexy, so why should I start caring now? I’m the cute girl, remember? The girl next door. Isn’t that what you told me? That I might not be sexy, but I was still fuckable?”
“I said that one time, and I was drunk––”
“You know what, nevermind. I don’t care what you think anymore. Tell your brother that I’m sorry, but I quit.”
“You can’t quit.”
“Yes, I most definitely can. Thanks for your input, though,” I return sarcastically. “I really appreciate it.”
His jaw tightens. “What am I supposed to tell him? He needs you––”
“No offense, but I don’t think that’s my problem anymore. Maybe you can convince your little friend over there”––I wave my hand toward the skank in the kitchen––“to handle the books while answering the phone like I did for your brother. She seems like quite the thinker.”
Ignoring my snide remark, he drops his voice low. “We’ll talk later, Reese.”
“Like I said. I’m done talking. Goodbye, Ian.”
Holding my breath, I continue our little game of chicken and squeeze through the crack between the doorway and his chest. When my butt grazes his towel-covered crotch, my spine straightens.
He used to love makeup sex. Said it was the best part about being in a relationship.
Now, it just makes me wonder why he was in one in the first place if that was the only benefit in his eyes. Although, I’m sure it didn’t hurt that I helped his brother with his accounting while we were dating. Maybe that was just an added perk.
Doesn’t take the sting away or the fact that I’ve never felt lower in my entire life. How long has he been juggling multiple women, and why was I stupid enough to believe he actually cared about me?
Because the answer is simple.
He didn’t.
With my phone pressed to my ear, I curse under my breath. “Come on, Milo. Answer your freaking phone.”
“This is Milo,” the recording starts. “If you’re hearing this, then I probably didn’t want to pick up the phone. Text me.”
Beep.
I don’t bother to leave a voicemail because let’s be honest, my brother won’t listen to it anyway. I’ve already sent him a dozen text messages, and he hasn’t responded to those either. Before I can talk myself out of it, I dial his best friend, Jake.
The damn thing goes straight to voicemail too. Just like Milo’s.
With a deep breath, I raise my hand and knock on the door in front of me while praying I’m at the right address.
Please be home, Milo. Please be home.
It took me an hour to get here from Ian’s and my apartment. I’d hoped that hour would’ve been enough time for Milo to call me back. But apparently, fate hates me today, so I’m not exactly surprised to see an almost-naked stranger on the other side of the door as it squeaks open.
Speechless, I take in the guy from head to toe.
When I catch myself staring at the ‘V’ on his lower abdomen that I was pretty sure didn’t actually exist out in the wild before this exact moment, he clears his throat, and I peek up at him.
With his head cocked to the side and his amusement on full display, the stranger mentions, “Usually, I take the girl out to dinner before I let her imagine me naked like that.”
Like a bucket of ice water has been poured over my head, I purse my lips and motion to the guy’s muscles and perfectly tanned skin that are on full display. “Well, there’s not much left to the imagination, so you’ll have to forgive me.”
“Who said I was complaining?” He smirks before leaning his broad shoulder against the doorjamb.
How is he so freaking toned?
“Can I help you, sweetheart?” he prods.
“I’m, uh, I’m looking for Milo.”
“Milo?” he repeats. I can hear the smile in his voice as I swallow thickly and force myself to hold his hypnotic stare.