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She made a zipper motion across her lips and shimmied her shoulders like I’d said we could start decorating for Christmas today instead of in a couple of months.
Hooking up? With Allison?
My breath caught, a sharp hitch that I couldn’t quite control. Heat rushed through me so fast it made me dizzy. I started pacing from one end of the room to the other.
The fuck he was.
“Isabella?” Tori asked.
I ignored her. No. Absolutely not. There was no way. No fucking way. He would never. Not after everything we’d been through.
“Isabella?” Tori called again
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I fumed.
Both girls froze. Kinsley’s mouth fell open. She sprang off the bed holding up both hands.
“Wait? Who are we killing?”
I continued pacing.
“That dirty, lying dog. That motherfucking snake in the grass.” I looked up and saw once more Kinsley was still not following.
We were really going to have to work on her contextual awareness.
“Your scumbag dance partner.”
“Pasha?” Kinsley squeaked. “Wait, I don’t understand.”
Her gaze darted to Tori. Then back to me. Then back to Tori again.
As if summoned by Satan himself, the bedroom door opened. Pasha stepped inside. His hair was still damp from a shower. A travel mug sat in one hand. He took one look at my face and stopped.
Rage, like molten lava, curled up from my gut. I crossed the room before anyone could stop me. My hand connected with his cheek. Hard enough that the impact stung all the way up my arm. The crack echoed through the bedroom. It landed with enough force to turn his head.
For one glorious second, I felt marginally better.
Beautiful brown eyes stared down at me. He blinked several times. A bright patch of red bloomed across his cheekbone, spreading fast. Slowly, his hand rose to the spot as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.
Tori gasped. Kinsley made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a dying goose.
“You fucking prick!” I shouted. “You’re spending time with her? Sleeping with the cock-craving whore? How could you?”
“What?” His expression shifted from confusion to horror. “Princess, it’s not—”
“Don’t you say another word.”
My palm met the hard wall of his chest. I shoved hard, needing him to feel even a fraction of the hurt and betrayal that was suddenly consuming me.
“I can’t believe you.”
“Bella—”
“How could you betray me like this?”
The words broke apart as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. I struck him, my fists landing against him again and again. It was pathetic at best. But it let me vent the impossible pressure building inside me. Every last emotion I’d spent weeks trying to control poured out all at once.
“After everything,” I choked out, hitting him once more.
