He pushes her out of his lap and glowers at her. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you really think there is something so magical about you or your pussy that you have the right to just jump in my lap in the middle of my conversation while I’m having dinner with someone? Who raised you?
The red-head cheeks flush. Lucky for her, Jason isn’t yelling. His tone is low and reprimanding. She looks me up and down. Accessing my appearance, she determines I’m not worth Jason’s attention.
“Look, it’s obvious you aren’t on a date. I wasn’t trying to upset you or interrupt your dinner with your lesbian friend over there. Just hit me up, later.”
“First, she’s not a lesbian. Second, I won’t be hitting your rude ass up for a damn thing. I don’t have your number. Hell, I don’t even know your name.” He holds up his hand when she opens her mouth. “I don’t want to know your name either.”
She frowns at him. “You used to be nicer,” she spits.
“Yeah? You most likely didn’t interrupt my dinner, and I was probably trying to fuck then. Go away, so I can finish my meal with a woman’s name I actually remember.”
He watches her walk away as if she’s the biggest nuisance in the world, shakes his head, and then murmurs, “rude ass” under his breath. Part of me begins to wonder if we’ll ever be like that once the sex is over. Will I be someone who doesn’t warrant remembering?
Granted, I’m aware I have his number, and he has mine. He knows my name, and he keeps upping the sex total, but still… How will he act when he’s tired of me? I touch the ball of hair I secured at the crown of my head.
Lesbian friend?
Jason turns back to me, studying my face. I don’t know if he’s assessing me from her point of view or if he’s checking my mood.
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious about my lack of glam. No one would have ever approached Jason like that if he were on a date with Chloe. But this isn’t a date, and I’m bare-faced with my hair in a ball, wearing a lightweight sweater, jeans, and Chucks.
I advert my eyes back to the queso and toy with a chip. The waiter returns with our entrees, but my appetite is gone. The mood he was creating is also gone. I’m glad he respected me enough to get rid of that woman, but how many more like her will follow?
A sadness I shouldn’t feel settles in my chest and successfully increases my desire to go home. Our server returning to fill the water gives me a means to escape.
“I need a to-go box,” I request. “And, the check, please.”
I feel Jason looking at me as I dig through my purse.
“Bree…” he begins. I plaster a fake smile on my face as I adjust my glasses.
“It’s okay, Jason. I’m well aware of your reputation.” His frown deepens and I’m unsure what’s putting it there. I hand the server my card without looking at the bill. “My treat,” I assure him as I add my food to the box.
“Why are you leaving? You haven’t eaten, and we have plans.”
He stares in my eyes, trying to get me to make him understand, but I can’t. I care when I shouldn’t. If I was a real friend with benefits, I would have laughed at the red-head and told her something like I wasn’t a lesbian when he was fucking me yesterday then blow her a kiss as we leave to go fuck again. I didn’t. I sat there and allowed Jason to handle it.
Now, I feel stupid and look plain to boot.
“Raincheck, okay? I’m just going to go home.”
I tip, sign, and grab my things. I’m out of the door in seconds. The cool air soothes some of my inner turmoil. I have my food and purse in the car and stepping inside when I’m pulled back. Jason turns me and pushes me back against my car. Grabbing my face, Jason jerks me into a rough, possessive kiss. He gives me his tongue without warning, making me take whatever he wants to put into the kiss. My crazy body reacts to the bruising press of his lips, the way his fingers dig into my skin, and the nip he uses to end the oral assault. My body wants more but my brain is muddled.
“Don’t ever walk out on me again.” His frown makes me horny. “I’ll see youtomorrow.”
His expression and tone suggest I should clear my schedule because the timeframe is non-negotiable. Jason stalks off before I can respond. I watch as he gives me one last warning frown before he swings open his door.
My hands are a little shaky when I drive off. I need to figure out what the fuck is going on with us, but we apparently have plans tomorrow.
12
Bree
“What did I do?” I whisper to myself.
I don’t recognize the person in the mirror. The full-face of makeup, the red lipstick, and the hair flowing past my shoulders belong to someone who’s not me. Chloe rocks this look, but I feel weird. I almost trip on the stilettos on my feet as I head to the door. It’s taking me so long to get from point A to B in these death traps and body contouring dress.
Jason knocks again.
