People must throw themselves at Lewis all the time.
There were guys dressed to the nines in three-piece suits at this party, and they’d all paled in comparison to Lewis who had strode through the room in jeans and a tee, looking as lickable as a cold ice-cream cone on a muggy hot day. He had a commanding presence he’d very much inherited from his father and uncles. The kind of charisma a lot of these actors would kill for.
And I hated him for it.
How many women had he slept with since we broke up?
My fingers trembled as I finished with my lipstick.
Why did the thought of it hurt so much?
I’d moved on.
I’d slept with other men.
The sex had even been fantastic.
With Lewis it had been romantic and sweet and loving and great. But we’d been kids who were just discovering sex with each other. The first bloke I’d slept with after Lewis had been a disaster, so much so I couldn’t even think about it. Then there had been Remy. The sex was okay (Remy was a selfish lover), but with Gabriel, it had been adventurous, sometimes rough, and exciting. Grown-up sex.
The thought of Lewis with other women shouldn’t bother me at all. It was hypocritical.
Shoving away from the sink, unable to bear listening to the redhead’s conversation as she planned her next approach on my ex, I hurried out of the bathroom.
Only to smack right into the object of my current distress.
Lewis reached out as if to steady me and suddenly afraid of what his touch might do, I jerked away.
Coming here was a mistake.
“Callie—”
“It’s too loud in here, so I’m heading out. Will you tell Eilidh? Thanks!” I didn’t wait for a response, hightailing it to the exit as fast as I could.
Bursting out of the club, I sucked in a lungful of shoddy air and shakily exhaled. Laughter and traffic filled my ears, and the air was thick with smog. So much so, I longed for Ardnoch. There was nothing like a fresh gulp of Highland air. Clean and crisp.
I stumbled away from the club, suddenly hating this cityfor being something Ardnoch could never be. Its pull so strong that it had torn me and Lewis apart.
It was a mistake to come here.
I hated London and all it stood for in my life.
“Callie!”
No.
Halting, I briefly closed my eyes before turning to face him.
Lewis’s concerned gaze met mine as he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. A few chunky silver rings glinted on his big-knuckled fingers. It was difficult in the glare of a million streetlights to make out the images on the full-sleeve tattoo of his left arm.
Where had he gotten the tattoo? When? Why?
All these things I would have known seven years ago. I probably would have sat in the chair next to him while he took the ink. But I knew nothing about the last seven years of his life, and I was knocked on my arse to realize how much that still hurt.
I despised him for that too.
He searched my eyes. “Can we … can we go somewhere?”
Surprised by the request, I shrugged. “Why?”
