Текст книги "Screwed"
Автор книги: Kendall Ryan
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
When I turn to look at him, Hayden’s expression has softened, concern shining through his desire. I realize that my apprehension is contagious. He knows as well as I do that this is it. We’re about to have sex—and our friendship will never be quite the same again. Even if that change is for the better, it’ll still take some getting used to. Is Hayden willing to work through the awkward stage that’s coming? I’m not even sure if I’m ready for it.
But then again, is anyone ever completely ready for anything new? Life happens at its own pace. I can’t make this leap smaller or less intimidating by worrying about it. Either I back away and spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been . . . or I take the plunge.
Right now.
Chapter Fifteen
Hayden
Emery stands in the center of our hotel room, her wide blue eyes locked on mine, looking apprehensive. After dirty-texting all day, I’ve been wound up and horny, so when she sauntered into the hotel bar, dressed in a black pencil skirt and white button-down top, looking ever so prim and proper, I wanted to strip her down and fuck her senseless. Now . . . I’m not so sure.
“Hey, come here,” I say, holding out my hand. She crosses the room toward me, placing her shaky palm in mine. “We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” All the confidence and bravado she had downstairs has faded away.
“Sorry, it’s just nerves.”
“It’s okay, Emery.” My tone is soft and reassuring, but inside my hormones are raging and my body is on fire. “It was probably a stupid idea.”
She chews on her lower lip, her eyes fixed on mine. She’s lost in thought—she’s always thinking, but for just once, I wish she wouldn’t. “No. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous. It’s just that I haven’t done this in a while. But I want to.”
Hearing her say those words, my pulse riots. “I’ll go slow. Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
She gives me a tight nod, and her shoulders relax.
“Come here.” I tug her to the bed and we sit down on the edge of it. I’ve never put this much thought into sex or seduction before, but I know I need to calm her down and get her ready, or this night’s going to be over before it even starts.
“What are you doing?” she asks, watching me curiously.
“We could talk first,” I suggest. I haven’t even asked her about her day.
She chuckles. “Somehow I don’t think that will help.”
“Right.” I run my hand along the back of my neck. “Elephant in the room and all that.”
She nods.
“I have an idea,” I say, rising from the bed. “Unbutton your top. I’ll be right back.”
Curiosity flashes in her eyes, but her fingers go to work on the buttons as I walk into the bathroom and grab a bottle of the hotel-supplied body lotion. I dump some into my palms and rub my hands together to warm it.
“A massage,” I say. “To relax you.”
Emery smiles and pulls her white shirt from her shoulders, tossing it on the floor. With the scent of mint and lavender hanging in the air around us, she lies down on the bed on her belly, her head to the side so her eyes are still on mine.
“Thanks for this, Hayden,” she says when my hands make contact with her skin.
I knead her stiff shoulders, pressing my thumbs between her shoulder blades to work out the knots I find. “Not a problem.”
I lose myself in the process, touching her shapely shoulders that I’ve admired for all these weeks. Pushing my fingers in along her spine until she’s nice and relaxed. She murmurs and lets out little grunts of satisfaction that are sexy as hell. I unclasp her bra and let the straps fall to the sides so I can continue rubbing her without the restrictive material in the way. Getting lost in my movements and her little groans, I realize I’m straddling her, my cock nestled against her ass cheeks, while my hips seem to be rocking against her on their own.
“Let me up,” she says, her tone suddenly stern.
Shit. I rise up onto my knees, and Emery lifts up too. I expect her to cover her chest with her hands, or to yell at me for being so presumptuous when I said it was only a massage.
But instead, she turns around on the bed so she’s facing me. Her chest is heaving wildly with heavy breaths and her skin is flushed. I can’t resist letting my eyes wander from hers. Beautiful. Her breasts are full and perky, with soft pink nipples that have puckered in the cool air-conditioning.
She’s looking at me hungrily, her eyes jumping between mine to where my cock is straining against my pants. In a heartbeat, everything has changed between us.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask.
She nods, biting her lip.
“Tell me.”
“I want it,” she whispers, inching her way closer to where I’m kneeling on the bed. As she brings her hands to my belt, her eyes stay locked on mine. “It’s all I thought about all day.”
“Me too,” I admit. Sending dirty texts all afternoon has left my libido in high gear. All systems are primed and ready to go. I must seek and plunder.
Undoing my pants, Emery works one hand into the front of my boxer briefs. My cock hardens even more as I feel her hand curl around me. I lean forward and take her mouth with mine. Once we begin, there’s no awkward fumbling, no hesitation. Her hand strokes up and down while I suck her tongue into my mouth and fondle the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever seen. When my thumbs graze her nipples, Emery moans and breaks from my mouth.
“Do you have any condoms?”
I nod. “’Course. I’m like a Boy Scout.”
She grins, pushing my boxers and pants down my thighs.
“But you’re getting ahead of yourself. I already told you I wanted to eat that sweet pussy of yours.”
She lets out a little groan, trailing her fingernails along my shaft and down to my balls. Goose bumps break out along my thighs. Christ, I want her.
“Is this going to change things between us?” she asks.
Ah. The real reason she went from horny to apprehensive in three seconds flat. “You’re really going to ask me that when your hand is on my cock?” And expect an honest answer, I want to add, but don’t. I meet her eyes and see fear and desire and confusion buried in those wide blue depths. “It doesn’t have to. Friends ’til the end. Okay?”
She nods, lifting her delicate chin and still holding my eyes.
I’m not some douchebag who’s going to lie to her and promise her the world. This is me. This is what I can offer her. She blinks and nods again, seeming to make up her mind. Then her fist around me relaxes. I give her shoulders a little push so she’s sitting back against the bed. After pulling down the zipper of her pencil skirt, she lifts her hips when I give her skirt and panties a tug. Soon she’s naked, and I take a moment just to appreciate the view.
“Damn,” I murmur.
“What?” She looks down at herself.
“I’d say yoga paid off.”
She’s soft like a woman should be, but her stomach is flat and her thighs are toned. She’s perfect. And shaved bare—which I didn’t expect, revealing delicate pink pussy lips that I want to part and bury my tongue against.
Giggling, she swats my shoulder. I rise from the bed and ditch the rest of my clothes before I push her thighs apart and position myself between them.
“This isn’t going to be like with Fuckstick or whoever. If you don’t like what I’m doing, or you need me to change pressure or speed, you’re going to tell me. You’re going to tug on my hair and tell me to the left, or harder, or whatever you need to climax. Do you understand?”
She nods, smiling at me.
“Promise?”
I hate how some women would rather fake an orgasm with high-pitched squeals rather than just tell their partner, Dude, suck on my clit until I scream your name. It’s really not that hard, but guys can be dense assholes sometimes.
She nods again.
The goal is to make her feel like she’s in control. I’ve gotten to know her these past few weeks, and I know that she’s the type to overthink everything and get lost inside her head. If I make sure she knows she’s the one calling the shots, that’ll be less likely to happen.
Pushing her legs open just a little wider, I lean down and lick my way from top to bottom, tasting her and breathing her in. Emery squirms, and I have to grip her hips to hold her in place. I center my mouth right over her sensitive nub and flick my tongue up and down until I feel her body shaking.
Then I devour her, sucking and licking until she’s a trembling, screaming mess. Shouting out my name, she loses that perfect control, coming hard against my face. I immediately want to do that again. But first I have bigger priorities. My cock has been neglected for way too long, and I need to rectify that. I grab a condom from my duffel bag that’s sitting beside the bed, and rip open the package with my teeth.
“Let me,” Emery says, sitting up and taking it from my hands.
Ever so carefully, she sheaths me, slowly unrolling the condom all the way down my shaft. I’ve never had a woman do this, and it feels way more erotic than it should. Once she’s satisfied with a job well done, she looks up at me, her cheeks flushed from her earlier orgasm and her eyes shining.
I lean forward and press a kiss to her reddened lips. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since we first met,” I admit.
“Come on then, big boy.” I feel her smile against my mouth.
Positioning my body over hers, I line my cock up with her entrance and rub the head of it back and forth through her wetness, teasing her.
“God, I can’t wait to see what you feel like,” I admit.
“And I can’t wait to see if you really know where the G-spot is.”
I almost chuckle to myself, almost, but then Emery wraps her legs around my ass and grinds against me, pushing her wet pussy up and down my shaft, and I forget how to breathe, let alone laugh.
“Goddamn it, hold still,” I mutter.
With one forearm holding up my weight over her, I use my other hand to grip the base of my cock and slowly feed it into her. Inch by tight inch, her body accepts mine.
Fuck. That feels good. Finally, I’m buried within her and I press my hips close to hers, savoring the feeling of being sheathed in her warmth.
“You’re really fucking tight,” I say with a grunt. When I look down, I see Emery’s eyes squeezed shut and she’s biting her lip. “Are you okay?”
She gives a nod of approval. “Yeah. It’s just . . . been a while.”
“Take a deep breath,” I say, retreating a few inches.
She sucks a big breath into her lungs, and her body, while still tense and clutching at me, relaxes just a little.
“That’s it. Now hang on.”
Emery brings her hands to my shoulders while I begin pumping in earnest. Soon, Emery’s moaning and digging in her heels against my ass as she grinds herself even closer on every down stroke. She feels so incredible that I lose myself in her, thrusting hard and fast, cursing under my breath as I press my lips against her neck.
I’m not sure if sex has ever been this good, and I never want it to end.
Chapter Sixteen
Emery
Hayden moves with the certainty of a man who knows what he’s doing. His lips crash against mine and my pulse skitters wildly. The room is filled with the sounds of our flesh slapping together.
I cry out and clutch his biceps for support as the most intense orgasm of my life hits me. This is the third he’s wrung from my body in the last hour, and I feel as if I’m floating on cloud nine. The man can fuck, there’s no denying that. It’s like he has a damn map of my vagina, the G-spot charted out in big block letters: Pleasure Central—Right Here!
Little droplets of sweat dot along the back of his neck; I feel dampness when I lace my fingers behind his head and pull him down for a kiss. His lips move tenderly with mine as the urgency of our fucking slows down to a softer pace. He has such control, such stamina, but I think he’s finally getting close. His cock thickens inside me and he groans softly near my ear. It’s the best sound in the whole world, knowing he’s finally following me over the edge.
“Emery,” he says on a groan, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of my throat.
After he comes, he keeps pumping in and out of me slowly, as if savoring the way I feel around him. When he reluctantly pulls out, he gathers me up in his arms and holds me, our limbs tangled and the sheets damp with our perspiration. I feel tired and boneless. It’s perfection. Better than I knew sex could be.
“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do that?” he asks, still breathing hard, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
“Because we’re friends?” I suggest helpfully.
“Right. Totally. I’d say now we’re more like best friends.”
“Besties.” I almost choke on the word. Why is my heart clenching in my chest?
As he rises from the bed and heads into the bathroom, to get rid of the condom, I presume, I take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of myself. I feel totally confused and out of control.
What the hell was I thinking? I just had sex with Hayden Oliver. Hayden Fucking Oliver. The man Roxy and my mom both warned me about with pitchforks and danger signs. Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but it was close.
I hear the faucet running in the bathroom, and I curl onto my side, hugging the pillow to my chest. It’s scented like him: cologne, sweat, sex. The smell makes my pussy throb again, makes me want him in my arms and between my legs . . . even as I want to push him away so I can figure all this out.
My heart is still thumping like a jackhammer when he approaches the bed and flops down beside me.
“You okay?” he asks, looking at me with something close to concern in his eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” I lie. “You?”
“Never better. That was incredible.” He shoves a pillow under his head and gazes up at the ceiling. “So, meetings all day again tomorrow?” he asks, like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Like we didn’t just have the best sex of my life. Like my brain isn’t turning itself inside out.
“Uh, yeah.” I can’t even think straight right now. How am I supposed to function in business meetings only eight hours from now?
“Do you still want to order room service?” Hayden asks, rolling over to face me in the dim light.
I shrug. “Not really.” My appetite has vanished. Along with my common sense, apparently. “I might just turn in early.”
“Cool with me,” he says. “Mind if I turn on the TV? We could watch the end of the game.”
I reach over to the nightstand and hand him the remote.
He kisses the top of my head and pulls me onto his chest. He’s warm and solid, and I curl up like a cat, letting him hold me.
As the steady sound of his heartbeat thumps under my ear, a pit of dread churns in my stomach. I never meant to let this happen, but holy shit, I’m falling in love with him. I’m screwed—completely and utterly screwed.
And not in the fun way.
Chapter Seventeen
Hayden
In the morning, I stretch my stiff limbs and rise from the bed, then lumber into the bathroom and swing the door shut behind me. When I lift the toilet seat and begin pissing, I wonder why in the hell my cock feels funny. Like I spent all night fucking.
Then the memories start rushing back. Emery writhing beneath me. Her legs wound around my back. Our mouths fused together in hungry kisses. The tightest pussy I’ve ever felt milking me.
Damn. That was intense. Who knew my buttoned-up, yoga-loving lawyer would be a fucking rock star in the sack?
I want a repeat, but when I emerge from the bathroom, I can see her sleeping form still curled up in the heap of messy sheets. Knowing that she’s got another big day of meetings ahead of her, I decide to let her rest a little longer.
As quietly as possible, I grab a pair of sweats from my bag and go into the adjoining living room of the suite. Flipping through the hotel’s room service menu, I pick up the phone and order us breakfast and coffee, then sit down in the armchair with my cell phone.
Soon after, I hear her stir in the adjoining bedroom, soft footfalls of bare feet padding across the carpeting . . . then the distinct sound of her passing gas. Loudly.
I chuckle to myself, my mouth pulling up into a grin. The other room is totally silent until I clear my throat.
“Is there even a remote chance you didn’t hear that?” she asks, peeking at me from around the corner.
Her hair is an absolute mess and there are little smudges of black makeup under her eyes. She’s naked, clutching the white sheet around her chest. And her cheeks are stained bright red—presumably from embarrassment. But she still somehow looks good.
I chuckle again. “Don’t worry about it. It was cute.”
Her eyebrows dart up in surprise. “Cute,” she repeats, sounding confused. And then she dashes off for the bathroom, and probably the shower since her meetings start in another hour from now.
I hear the spray of water and the shower curtain being pulled along the rod. Lost in thought, I’m staring at my phone reading an e-mail from Hudson when it suddenly hits me and I bolt up out of my chair.
Cute? The fuck?
My heart begins hammering in my chest, and my palms break out in a damp sweat. Hudson’s words come rushing back to me. I realize that if I thought that was cute, my feelings for her are a lot deeper than I ever bargained for.
Picking up my phone again, I dial Hudson in a blind panic, trying not to freak the fuck out. He will explain this to me. He has to. I can’t let hysteria set in. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
“Yo,” he answers. “How’s Oklahoma?”
“It’s Nebraska,” I bark. I have no time for pleasantries. I’m dealing with a Code Red emergency here.
“Oh, right. What’s up, man?”
“She just fucking farted.”
A long silent pause. “So I take it you left her?” he says with a chuckle.
“No. Worse. I thought it was cute. I laughed it off and told her not to worry about it. She was mortified, of course.”
I glance to the bathroom door, which is still shut. The sound of water running tells me she’s still showering.
“Okay, we’ll talk this out. You can get through this,” Hudson reassures me with only a hint of a mocking tone to his voice.
“Damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“What’s the problem? Did you guys have sex?”
“Yes. Several times last night,” I admit.
“And now you have real feelings for her?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“And the problem is what, exactly?”
The problem is so colossal that it can’t even be put into words. What’s happening between us isn’t just friendship, I’m falling in love with her. The one thing I vowed I’d never do again. It almost destroyed me last time, and every fucking time I see Roxy, it’s pushed into my face all over again. A constant reminder of what could have been. That can’t happen with Emery. I wouldn’t survive it.
“I’ve gotta go,” I tell him.
“Hayden, don’t do this—” Hudson begs, but I end the call before I can hear the rest of it.
Pacing the hotel room, I gather my stray clothes and toss them into my duffel bag. Then I pull on a T-shirt and my shoes, and I’m out the door before the shower even turns off.
My plan is to head straight for the airport and hightail it back to LA, where I can pretend like none of this ever happened. Outside the lobby of the hotel, I hail the first cab I see, tossing my duffel bag inside and then climbing in after it.
“The airport, please.”
My hands are shaking as I pull out my cell phone and type out a text to Emery.
Hayden : Sorry. I can’t do this.
Then I turn off my phone.
Chapter Eighteen
Emery
Last night was one of the best nights of my life. Being intimate with Hayden was . . . everything. It was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had. But the afterglow illuminated a few unpleasant things, and the stark light of morning has only confirmed them.
As I stand under the spray of warm water, lathering shampoo in my hair, I realize I can’t ignore the fact that I have major feelings for him. It’s kind of terrifying; sex changing our relationship is exactly what I was afraid of yesterday.
Now that the moment is here, though, I don’t feel nearly as stressed as I did when I was worrying about this before. It’s a fact, just as much as the sky is blue and the Sherman Act was passed in 1890 . . . I’m falling in love with Hayden Oliver. A simple truth instead of an anxious, murky possibility.
And this simple truth has a simple—although pretty intimidating—solution. If I still want to date Hayden after we get back to Los Angeles, once I get out of the shower, we should go out for coffee and discuss it like adults. And if he doesn’t return my feelings, if he wants to stay just friends . . . I think I can be a big girl about that. Probably. I just don’t want to lose him and his friendship completely.
So if that’s all we can have, I’ll just have to adjust. Even though the thought of going without the physical part, now that I know exactly how good he is in bed—fuck, that will suck. I’ve never come that many times in a row before. Seriously, my body is achy in the strangest places. But the soreness in my pussy and hips is strangely pleasant, a testament to how much fun we had last night. My dry spell has sure been broken, all right, and I’m already hungry for more.
Plus I’m just plain hungry. We probably don’t have time for a quickie, but I still look forward to eating breakfast with Hayden before I start my last day of boring meetings. And before our return flight, we’ll have another evening all to ourselves . . .
When I come out of the bathroom, the air-conditioning feels frigid against my damp skin, and I hug the towel tighter around me. “Lover?” I call, peeking into the living room.
It’s empty. Chuckling to myself, I realize Hayden must still be in bed. Walking on air, I let the front of my towel drift open. “Up for another round already?” I call out playfully. “Or are you just a lazy . . . ?” I trail off when I realize that the bedroom is empty.
My phone vibrates, and I scurry back to the bed’s nightstand to check. It’s a new text from Hayden. Is he surprising me with something? The butterflies in my stomach start waking up . . .
But they fall quiet again as I read:
Hayden : Sorry, I can’t do this.
So I fire back:
Emery : Can’t do what? You sprain your dick last night, sex machine? :P Don’t worry, we can find other uses for you.
I giggle to myself and wonder seriously where he went. To get coffee, probably.
After I’ve put on my business suit and makeup for the day, there’s still no answer. And when I see his things are gone, my stomach sinks even further. Devastated, I send another text.
Emery : What do you mean? Where are you?
Hayden still hasn’t turned up by the time I finish my huge, lonely breakfast. The room-service bellhop delivered enough for two people, even after I avoided the meat stuff. I can’t wait around for Hayden any longer. I have to head downstairs for the day’s first meeting. Under the conference table, I send text after increasingly frantic text, culminating in:
Emery : What the fuck are you talking about, you cryptic douche?
No response whatsoever. Nothing but radio silence. All I can do is read and reread his original text in the hopes of deciphering something new. Five little words, as short and painful as a scalpel—aimed right where I’d just begun to heal.
I didn’t think I was under any illusions. I didn’t let myself dream that we might become more than friends. Hell, I probably would have been fine with fuck-buddy status. But I never imagined that Hayden would just drop everything and bail like this. Use me and then throw me away like a tissue he’d finished jerking off into. He couldn’t even say good-bye to my face before he ran away. I guess I gave him more credit than he deserves.
Even though he probably won’t answer, I still can’t resist trying to call him during our lunch break. I’m not surprised when his voice-mail message immediately plays.
So this is how we end, huh? After giving me the most mind-blowing night I’ve ever had, he’s already moved on. I almost have to laugh. Roxy was right all along; I was never anything more than his latest conquest. Considering the many years I spent in school, I feel pretty fucking stupid right now. That JD after my name doesn’t mean shit. I fell for his game hook, line, and sinker.
God, I’m such an idiot—it’s almost impressive how dumb I am. How many people warned me about him? Roxy got burned and tried to save me from the same fate. Mom could tell what kind of man he is with a single glance. Even his own fucking sister dropped hints that should have sent me running for the hills. They all knew better, but I was too arrogant and horny to listen to any of them. I still fell for Hayden’s nice-guy act . . . playing along and dropping my panties just as he probably knew I would all along. I should have known that a shithead can’t change his spots.
Have I learned nothing these past few years? My relationships with men always end in disaster. They start out hopeful, then turn into something I never signed up for. I hated the passionless sex. The dull conversations. The pretending to be interested in basketball games or whatever damn sports thing they liked to watch on TV.
But as I consider all this, I realize there was none of that with Hayden. The sex was off-the-charts hot, and I can truly say that every time he opened his mouth, he kept me entertained. There was no forcing his hobbies on me, either. He took an interest in my hobbies instead. It really felt like we were building toward something real. And then . . . whammo. The floor fell out from beneath me.
Hating myself almost as much as I hate Hayden, I finish my last day of business meetings in a black mood and fly home alone.
• • •
When the taxi drops me off at almost eleven, some kind of masochistic curiosity prompts me to climb past my floor and up to Hayden’s. I peep around the corner of the stairwell. Light glows from underneath his condo door; he must be home for the night. I consider knocking and demanding an explanation, but right now, I’m not brave enough. The last thing I need is to break down in front of a man who’s already exploited my feelings.
Besides, all my texts went unanswered and all my calls went straight to voice mail. Hayden must have turned off his phone. He’s willing to miss communications from anyone, no matter how important, just to avoid even seeing my name on his screen.
So I already know perfectly well that he’s pushed me away. Knocking on his door will only force me to face that rejection in person. I don’t know which would be worse . . . Hayden outright sneering that he’s done with me, asking why I can’t take a hint, or Hayden gazing at me with pity in his eyes, trying to let me down easy. At least he won’t snow me with a fake apology just to set the stage for another booty call, like my last ex would always do. Hayden’s text made it pretty clear that he never wants to see me again—in or out of bed.
Lost in resentful thought, I startle when Hayden’s condo door opens. I watch in horrified disbelief as a buxom, long-legged woman saunters out. She looks tired, satisfied . . . and familiar.
Is that who I think it is? Even with the building’s hall lights dimmed for the night, Roxy’s face is unmistakable. And she’s dressed the most casual I’ve ever seen her, wearing flip-flops, Bermuda shorts, and a man’s T-shirt . . . is it Hayden’s? Her blond hair splays over her neck in a messy ponytail, as if she quickly pulled it back, and she isn’t wearing any makeup. Overall, she looks like she was rode hard and put away wet.
I feel sick to my stomach. That prick sure didn’t take long to replace me, did he? And with his ex, no less. Her dire warnings to stay away from Hayden clearly didn’t apply to herself.
Before Roxy can catch me lurking—or I start crying—I duck back into the stairwell and down to the safety of my condo.
• • •
The next few days pass in a dark funk. I bitch a little to Trina over lunch, then stop when I realize it doesn’t make me feel better. Neither does double-chocolate ice cream with hot fudge. Even my work can’t truly distract me. I’m numb and distracted, and tired, sleeping until my alarm demands that I get up or be late for work. I skip yoga, and generally feel exhausted.
But one morning, I wake up pissed off. Not upset, not depressed, but filled with a fury that’s cold and hard and strong as iron. It pushes me out of bed and into the shower like I’m preparing for battle. All my helpless self-pity has transmuted itself into determination.
No more sad-sack Emery, I decide, welcoming the cool spray on my face. No more moping and wallowing in heartbreak. I refuse to waste any more energy on that prick, not even to hate him. As Mom always says, the best revenge is living well.
I have to remind myself who I am, and the best way to do that is to get centered on my career again. I have to kick even more ass at work and double down on studying; the bar exam is only a week away now. And I have to make a clean break, so that I’m reminded of Hayden as little as possible. Which means finding a new apartment. Again.
Despite my new resolutions, I feel a residual flash of anger at myself. What the fuck happened here? After my last boyfriend, I told everyone who would listen that I’d sworn off men, but I still managed to get tangled up with yet another jerk. I convinced myself that Hayden would be different when he was just Asshole McFuckstick: The Thrilling Sequel.
At least I got some good sex out of this whole mess, I think bitterly as I comb my hair. At least I came to my senses before he sank his claws too far into me. At least I only wasted a month of my life, instead of two years.
Even so, what’s wrong with me? Am I an idiot? How many times do I have to make this kind of mistake before I learn to avoid it? Maybe I just won’t have a next time at all. I should have stuck to my no boys allowed rule in the first place. All men ever do is confuse your priorities and fuck up your life.
I remind myself of another Mom proverb: Spit in one hand and wish in the other, and see which one fills up first. I can’t change the past, so I force my attention back to the future and resume my pep talk.
I’m Emery Winters, damn it, I repeat silently while I get dressed and put on my makeup. I don’t need men. I don’t need anyone. I’m a lean, mean legal machine. I eat textbooks for breakfast and contracts for dessert. No one can fuck with me.
