So . . . yeah . . .
I finish getting dressed, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel . . . gorgeous.
I turn to the side, checking out my ass in the dress, and then turn to the other side. It took me longer than I wanted to cover up all of Halsey’s bite marks, but I think I did a pretty good job. My hair flows down my back in soft waves, and my eyes stand out from my thick coat of mascara. I can’t remember the last time I felt this pretty.
Oh wait, I can . . . when Halsey looked at me when we were trying on dresses.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
How?
How can one man completely change my way of thinking? My way of feeling? It boggles my mind. Perry wasn’t a bad guy, so how can Halsey make me feel exponentially more than Perry ever made me feel?
May be something I might never understand.
I grab my purse for the day and then on a deep breath, open my door, and sure enough, Halsey is waiting in the kitchen, watching my door with a cup of coffee in hand. Disheveled and fresh from bed, I’ve never seen a sexier sight.
“Morning,” he says, staring at me, his eyes trailing from my heels up to my breasts, and then my face.
“Morning,” I say slightly awkwardly as I make my way toward the front door.
But he doesn’t let me walk past him as he puts his hand out and stops me. “Leaving so soon?”
“Early morning again,” I say.
He nods and sets his coffee mug down.
Whereas yesterday he seemed confused, this morning he seems sure of himself. He moves in close and then walks behind me. He slips his hand around my waist, pushes my hair to the side, and presses a kiss to my neck. “I don’t like that you cover up my marks.”
“I . . . I can’t walk around with them.”
“Afraid people will know you’ve been fucking me?” he asks. “Or are you afraid they’ll think you’re a dirty fucking girl?”
I swallow as his hand comes up to my neck, the exact place where he held it last night. “The latter,” I answer.
“Good answer,” he says as his other hand travels to the hem of my dress. “Is this for me? Or someone else?”
“For me,” I answer.
His lips smile against my neck. “Liar.” He pulls the hem up, exposing my thong, and then he tugs on my underwear, pulling it down my legs until they’re completely off. He then adjusts my skirt back and moves around to the front of me. “You don’t need this.” He holds up my thong and then sticks it in the waistband of his shorts. He reaches for his coffee, leans against the counter, and says, “Have a good day.”
Uh . . . he wants me to just walk out of here without underwear?
I’m all for some kink, but this dress is short.
“Halsey, I need my underwear.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you don’t,” he says and then moves into the kitchen where he pulls the carton of eggs from the fridge, almost as if he’s dismissing me.
What is happening?
Who is this man and what has he done with the Halsey IthoughtI knew?
Because the quiet, understated man I’ve lived with for a few weeks is nowhere to be seen. He’s an alpha male with my thong hanging over the waistband of his shorts, and there has to be a reason for that.
There. . . sent.
I sit back in my chair and shut my eyes. I spoke with my manager first thing this morning when she arrived, telling her about the opportunity I’ve been handed. I told her I’d have stayed with the Agitators, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. She agreed with me and told me she wished me thebest of luck and asked me to send my formal resignation through email, which I just did.
