I can’t process it right now, and I sure as hell am not wearing any of her clothes. I back out, leaving the door open. Alex can know I came in here; it’ll be good for him after he sucked on her tongue.
So that’s it. No other options for things to wear, unless I want to see if he has an apron around here somewhere.
His tux jacket comes down to midthigh. It’s not too bad, aside from the indecent amount of cleavage I’m showing. So much side-boob my nipples are nearly on display. And it only has two buttons. My coat might solve some of that problem, and I can always hold it closed if I have to. It’s not real clothes—far from it—but it’ll be enough to get home. I hope.
Shit. Where are my keys? Where’s my goddamnphone?
Tell me I didn’t leave my clutch in his bedroom. I can’t go back in there and risk disturbing him. I’ll just have to wake Carol up instead. But that doesn’t work, because I can’t get home without either my phone or my bank cards, and they’re all in the same place.
How could I have been sostupid?
Then I see my coat on the floor of the hallway, a hint of green catching my eye. I cross to it with rapid paces, breathing in relief when I see my clutch. I must’ve dropped it when he kissed me. That possessive, controlling, toe-curling, panty-wetting kiss.
And I know just how goddamn wet I got, because he stuffed those same panties in my mouth.
Bastard.
Coat. Phone. Money. Stupidly large ill-fitting tux. That was as good as it was going to get.
I pull my shoes on by his front door, slip my coat over his jacket, and grab my clutch.
And I’m out the door, closing it as quietly as I can behind me. Pummeling the call button for the elevator, dreading the moment when his door opens and he stands there—naked?—and calls me back in.
The elevator arrives, and I hit the button for the lobby, willing the doors to close faster. Breathing for the first time when they finally do.
The coat gapes too much when it’s fastened, but I’ll just hold it. One cab ride, and I’ll be home.
And then what?
He knows where I live. He’ll just turn up again.
Where else can I go?
The ridiculous thought comes to me that I could hide in ourhouse, the one in Westchester. The last place he’ll look for me. But he might just go there, even if he avoided it when we fuckinglivedthere. It’s not a safe option.
Not Carol’s. No other friend I can drop in on at such short notice.
That only leaves one option.
My brother’s in Miami. We swap birthday and Christmas messages, and occasionally talk about his kids. I haven’t seen him in eighteen months. We get on just fine, it’s just… distant.
Story of my relationships.
I check the time. It’s barely midnight, but we left the ball early. Once I’m in the cab, I ping Chris a message anyway. And to my surprise, he responds before I’m halfway home.
It’s kinda late. Everything okay?
No, everything isnotokay.
I’m fine. I just need somewhere to stay for a few days. Do you still have a spare room?
The three dots of him typing run across the bottom of my screen.
Of course. You’re always welcome. I can’t guarantee it’s a Lego-free zone, so you’ll have to watch where you walk. Everything alright with you and Alex?
Yeah. We’re fine. He just pinned me down and gave me three orgasms while I begged him not to start, then begged him not to stop. Perfectly fine.
A hiccup or two. How early tomorrow can I come?
