Single dad. Check.
Uptight. Check.
Corporate grumpy pants. Double check.
Plus, he’s the guy who already rejected me when he ignored my dating app match request.
Yet, I hopped into bed with him like my very existence depended on it.
Not good. Not good. Not good.
Just to clarify—the hookup itself was ah-mazing. Thedecisionto have the hookup? Not good.
Still I have to admit, for a guy who seems to care about nothing except winning a father of the year trophy and working his stuffy office job, Lincoln’s bedroom moves were surprisingly…hot.
Seriously. Whew. I’m getting worked up all over again just thinking about the things he did with his tongue.
And, boy. That orgasm sure rocked my freaking world.
I’d definitely been looking forward to taking that big joystick for a test drive. So, I don’t know why I pretended to be fast asleep when he got out of the shower. That definitely was a coward move. But it’s like some sort of subconscious self-preservation took over me. And now, in retrospect, I can see that it was all for the better. Because yet again, Lincoln Raines is rejecting me.
I hear his footsteps heading for the door. Then, I swear I feel him stop and look in my direction. He pauses for a long moment and I force my breathing to slow down, reminding myself that the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me doesn’t matter. Lincoln still hates me, and I still hate him.
He’s probably glaring at me from across the room right now, thinking about how much he regrets touching me. He’s probablyabout to get on his phone any minute now and schedule his STD test online at the nearest all-night clinic.
Ugh—I’m so done with superior assholes who think they’re better than me. I’m done with judgy jerkwads who want to blame me for their own shitty decisions. So if Lincoln wants to sneak out without having the decency to say goodbye? Then so be it.
Good riddance.
Fooling around with that asshole was a mistake. It will never happen again. I’m not blinded by one earth-shattering orgasm. I have ten healthy fingers and a battery-operated boyfriend to keep me happy. I have no need for jerks in my life. So Lincoln and I can just go back to avoiding each other like before.
Yet it takes considerable effort to ignore the sting I feel when I hear my bedroom door open and then close quietly behind him.
I pull my comforter up to my shoulders as my eyeballs begin to prickle. “Fuck you, Lincoln Raines,” I mumble into the scratchy fabric. “And fuck your big cock, too.”
The reality of a smart, sexy, (unintentionally) funny man tiptoeing out of my place like a burglar after we spent the night tangled up together? It doesn’t feel the greatest.
Told ya so, my snarky-ass guardian angel mutters from somewhere at the back of my brain.
My all-too-familiar feelings of inferiority start seeping in. He doesn’t think I’m good enough, and nothing I can do will ever flip the hate-Jules switch inside his head.
Whatever.
I’m a big girl.I can certainly handle the rejection. I’ve been doing it all my life. I’m practically a pro.
I get distracted from my pity party when I hear voices coming from my living room. I shoot up in bed, listening closely.
It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand. My roommate, Laney, is working the night shift at the hospital. She doesn’t usually get home until around seven in the morning.
Heart pounding, I glance at the clock on my night stand. It’s not even five-thirty. There’s no way she’s home already.
Laney’s still off answering phones at the hospital, chugging energy drinks and wearing those super comfy old lady shoes. My roommate has a goal to pay off her credit card debt by Christmas, so I know she’d never ditch work and come home early unless she somehow contracted the plague.
Yet, I definitely hear a female’s voice out there, chatting it up with Lincoln the Pussy-Eating Bandit.
I frown, straining to listen through the walls. Then I hear a laugh. A single, high pitched laugh that has my blood running cold. That’s definitely not my roommate’s voice.
It’s—oh shit!
