Protecting Her: A Romance Bundle

Whatever it took, no matter how large the apology or how much crow eating was required, I would have Annabel in my arms and on my cock before the night was through.

If not in reality, then in my dreams.

13

Annabel

Sitting there across the table from one another in his mother’s kitchen, ravenously devouring the pizza and gulping down large glasses of Mountain Dew and Coke between bursts of laughter, it was like we had never been apart. It was as if Shane had not cheated on me with Juju. Like he had never gotten in the car with Kenny the night of the horrible accident. Like he had never confronted his father with such tragic results. Like he had never gone away. Like we had never spent a day or a night apart. Like I was still in love with him madly. That’s what it felt like in that moment. Sadly, I knew all moments pass and this one would, too.

Biscuit the Maltese was sitting patiently on the floor now, waiting to clean up whatever crumbs we might drop. The little dog was around ten-years-old, but still acted like a puppy, standing on its hind legs, dancing in circles hoping she’d be rewarded with food. Shane couldn’t resist pulling cheese off the pizza and feeding little bites to her.

“You should not feed a dog people food,” I said, scolding him with my eyes. He just smiled and kept offering Biscuit bites of cheese.

“Is this people food? Really?” he asked, giving me a sideways grin.

“It’s what passes as people food when you’re starving,” I said. I let my eyes drift around the kitchen. It was neat, almost like no one had lived there for a very long time. “So, you’re going to sell the place?”

Shane wiped the grease from his fingertips and picked up his drink. “I have no use for it,” he said, looking around. “You want it?”

“Why would I want it?” I asked.

“Your receptionist told me you lived above your practice,” he said with a shrug. “This place ain’t much, but it has to be better than that.”

“My receptionist should keep her mouth shut,” I said, eyebrows arching at the thought of Wendy sharing my business with Shane, who for all she knew, was

a psycho serial killer.

“Don’t be mad at her,” he said. “I told her we were old friends.”

“Did you now.”

“I did.”

“Is that what we are, Shane? Old friends.”

The smile slowly faded from his lips and his eyes went narrow. “Well, I like to think so.”

I didn’t plan for the next words to come out of my mouth. They just did, like spitting out a mouthful of water when someone tells a joke. And when I spat them out they hung in the air between us like a bad smell.

“Why did you fuck Juju?”

Shane blinked at the question. “What?”

“Juju,” I said, cupping my hands to my breasts. “Big tits, big hair, deep throat.” I let my hands drop into my lap and laced my fingers together. “Why did you fuck her?”

“I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head and holding up his hands like he was pushing the words back toward me.

“Bullshit,” I shot back.

“No, seriously. I never screwed Juju.”

“I saw you,” I said incredulously, leaning in and cocking my head to the side.

“You saw her… well, sucking my cock. You did not see me fuck her.”

I frowned at him. “Are you telling me you never fucked Juju Wheeler?”

He leaned in to match my posture and lowered his voice. “Never.”