Hold Me Close (Bridgewater County 4)
Chris didn’t display an ounce of shame when he saw me. The opposite, in fact. He grabbed his sex toy’s hips and jerked her ass against his groin lewdly. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Tousled blond hair, square jaw, perfect body. Even his dick was good looking. But he disgusted me. Nothing about him appealed to me—even before I had to stand here and watch him fuck someone else. “This cock’s occupied, Lace. If you want in on the action, you’ll have to ask my lady friend for some tongue.”
“Your lady friend.” My eyebrows couldn’t possibly rise any farther. “You know what, whatever. I’m not going to ask. You and your lady friend need to get off my bed before I call the cops.”
With one hand, he reached around and cupped a very fake breast. “You wouldn’t.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. I would.” I didn’t realize I was shaking until I jabbed my finger toward the door. “Get out. Both of you.”
The blonde flipped her long hair back and gave me a dirty look. “Bitch, ever heard of waiting for your turn?”
I held up my hands and took a step back. Then another. “You know what. I’m not doing this.”
Turning, I grabbed the house phone off the nightstand.
“For fuck’s sake, Lacey.” Chris pushed his partner away and looked around the room, condom covered dick glistening. I wasn’t sure if I should gag from the porno in front of me or if I should be impressed he used protection.
“If you’re trying to find your pants, they’re on the stairs. You can put them on while you’re on your way out of my life.”
His shoulders stiffened but his erection flagged. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I’m not doing this anymore. I won’t be associated with you, not even in the tabloids. When our PR firm wants to know what went wrong, you can sort it out.”
His lip curled back in a sneer. “Fine. I don’t need your stuck-up bitch face to get me where I’m going. I was only into you for the connection, to get the world looking at my band. I’ve got that now and I don’t need you anymore.” He climbed off the bed. “You know what, Lacey? Go ahead, call the fucking cops. Get the press in here, too. Let’s make this break-up official.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone in the doorway. I whipped my head around to find someone from the party had already found us. The guy wore a stage crew t-shirt across his narrow chest and a had his phone pointed at me, Chris and the blonde who, instead of scrambling away in shame, had dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor and devoted herself to reviving Chris’s limp dick.
“Put that away,” I growled.
“Fuck, n
o. Keep it out. Let’s get this on camera.” Chris fisted the blonde’s hair and pressed deep into her mouth until she gagged.
That was my breaking point. Slamming the phone down, I turned my back on Chris and everything else, stopping only long enough to grab my clutch from my carry-on. I didn’t need the police. Chris and his party people would leave eventually. My staff would do damage control on the house and my public image tomorrow.
Or they wouldn’t. I pushed past the guy in the doorway, down the stairs and out the front door—which still stood open. The fresh air did nothing to make me feel better. As I called for another car to pick me up and settled on the curb at the end of the driveway to wait, I realized I didn’t care whether anybody cleaned up this mess or not.
I just didn’t care. I needed out. Away. I just didn’t know where to go.
GET MAKE ME YOURS NOW!