Page 33 of Play With Me
Everything about him calls to me. I just hate that everything about me seems to displease him.
Slowly, I approach Anders, placing each leg on the sofa to straddle him. I move with precision, but give him more than enough time to rebuff my advances if he wants to. His hands lift to my hips, eyes focused on mine. “What are you doing, Cara?”
“I’m horny. As my pretend boyfriend, I think that duty is yours to take care of,” I whisper, grabbing his hands to slide them up my body until they rest over my breasts.
Faster than I can blink, Anders lifts me off him and gently pushes me away, putting as much distance between us as possible without leaving the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
Slapping my hands on the leather material of the sofa like a toddler throwing a tantrum, I bite back, “What the fuck is wrong with you all of a sudden? It’s like you want nothing to do with me when we both know that isn’t true.”
Like flipping a light switch, I watch his features harden like a mask slipping over his face. “I’ve told you a million times, Cara. I don’t fuck prostitutes.”
He’s said the words before, but it’s been a while since he’s thrown them around so crassly. He looksindifferent. Completely unphased that I just basically offered myself to him without a fight.
Embarrassed, I rise from the sofa. “I wasn’t offering to fuck you,” I lie. “I just wanted to get off, but I forgot I have an entire club for that.”
I shoulder past him and yank my office door open, hoping he’ll stop me and apologize. But he doesn’t. He lets me go, knowing Martin and Nikolai are in the Grand Room. With every step, I keep thinking I’ll hear him behind me, calling out to stop me from seeking my release elsewhere.
But I don’t see Anders for the rest of the evening. I don’t even attempt to draw him out of the shadows by flirting with anyone else. No, I spend the night stewing in my anger and convincing myself that whatever I thought might be between us is nothing but a lie.
I keep thinking that what Anders and I have is something special.
And he keeps reminding me that I’m wrong.
So, very wrong.
I’vealwaysliked to look my best at all times.
But tonight?
Did I play up my face with just a tad moremakeup than I usually would for a typical black-tie event?
Maybe.
Did I curl my hair to perfection and clip it to cascade over one shoulder…just the way Mick likes?
Possibly.
Did I choose a skintight, satin dress that shows off my breasts and has a slit so high up one side you could peep my thong if you looked close enough?
But KateinsistedI be here.
So I was damn well going to look my best at an event full of potential clients—and also to serve as a reminder to Kate that I’m not a sad woman scorned. I’m living my best life.
Some might call me a bitch. Some might call me a villainess.
I call it karma.
It isn’t that I hate her or anything. It’s that she knew Mick and I were happy, and she went out of her way to destroy it. Then, of course, there’s also the little fact that I still fuck her husband every now and then.
Mick is like a dog with a bone. He’s able to sniff out when I’m feeling sad and lonely and shows up every single time with his silken promises and honey-dipped lies.
And I fall for it every time.
Not because I still believe we can be endgame, but because in my darkest moments, I just don’t care thatthere’s a woman waiting for him at home. He still lovesme.
Once upon a time, he promised me forever. His family just promised him toherfirst.
The sad truth is, Kate knows it. She hides it behind saccharine sneers and forces small talk whenever we’re in the same room together. She’s tried multiple times to get close to me, offering fake friendship so that she can keep me near. But I’ve never had a problem telling another woman I don’t want to be their friend.