Fat Cat Liar

“Monday, five-thirty,” he tells me, flicks his hand in goodbye, and leaves.

Even with the heavy mood in the air, I chuckle to myself thinking about Greer’s ass print on the window. That one little detail makes the Simmons project worth every single headache.

When I close my eyes, I can picture her holding on to me as I fucked her relentlessly all over that apartment. No inhibitions, no shyness, no reservations. She gave it all back to me.

The sound of her moans, cries, and whimpers, my name on her lips echoing off the walls, the sting of the bite when she sunk her teeth into my neck; all of it comes rushing back.

But the humor is short lived when my chest seizes in pain and my blood runs cold. Beads of sweat pop on my forehead, and my head starts to pound. I grow dizzy, my desk coming in and out of focus as I try to even out my breathing.

Guilt, shame, and remorse flood my system. My brain kicks in, telling me what I’ve known from the beginning. I’m in too deep, and I’ve brought her down to hell with me.

It’s time. I have to end this sham and walk away.

•8•8•

“I understand. Have a nice time.” Greer’s voice is laced with disappointment.

“It’s only one night,” I say for the second time.

“I know, but if you change your mind, call me and I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“Greer,” I growl. “I’ve told you about that. Lock your fucking door at all times.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She clutches my sweater and lifts up to run her lips across mine.

It takes every fiber in my body not to pick her up and march us back to her room.

Fuck her one last time.

Taste her one last time.

Make love to her one last time.

Feel her come undone and give herself to me one last time.

But I can’t do that to her. For once, since meeting her and starting this scam, I know I’m doing the right thing.

I nip her bottom lip lightly and force myself to step out of her grip. The taste of her lip gloss coats my lips, making this harder than it already is.

“Call you later, babe. Have a nice night.”

She knows something is up. Since the minute I walked into her apartment tonight with my phony excuse of going out with the guys, she’s eyed me skeptically. I waited for the questions, but they never came.

I take one last look at her, the image burning into my brain as I leave abruptly, not able to handle the pressure building inside.

Because this may be the last time I see Greer Palmer.

My chest tightens, scorching as if a fiery blade has been plunged straight into my heart.

I go through the motions, leaving the building, getting into my truck, and driving to the closest liquor store. Once there, I grab a bottle of whiskey and head to the other side of the city.

To my loft.

Tonight, I will cut Greer loose.

I knew it this morning when she rolled over in my arms and flashed her smile directly at me. That look pierced through every cell and nerve in my body.

My conscience has finally gotten the upper hand, and the only person I care about in this scenario is Greer. I’ve gotten in too deep, and if I end this now, she can move on and forget I ever existed in her life. I can go back to being an egotistical asshole with no attachments or feelings.