Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Should I thank you for getting me fired, because if I didn’t drag you off the floor, that’s exactly what would have happened. Hell, if those guys want to cause trouble and tell the studio owner, I still might.”
“They didn’t see anything.”
“They saw enough.” I run a hand down my face and blow out a tired breath. “Baby, what is this? It’s not like you.”
“How would you know what’s like me? After a few months, you think you know me?”
A slap across the face would have stung less.
I take her gently by the shoulders, trying to search her eyes, but she turns her head, lips pursed tightly. “Vee, I don’t know where this is coming from.”
“Well, lemme show you where it’s going,” she says, and turns away, walking quickly toward the studio exit. “I don’t need this.”
“What the hell!” I shout, walking toward the door. “Verity, come back and—”
“Monk,” Bret calls from the open door of the control room. “I can see you got shit going on, but we need to knock this out. Studio’s booked for the next group in two hours.”
“Yeah.” I nod absently. “Sorry. Coming.”
Part of me wants to tell Bret and his crew to fuck themselves, chase my girl and get to the bottom of this. Something isn’t right, but I can’t leave in the middle of the session. Whatever it is, will have to wait.
The closed door taunts me. I can’t shake the sense that it was more than a physical door Verity just slammed. That my future; our hopes are still here with me, but the girl I love is on the other side, already walking away.
TWELVE
Verity
I don’t know why I’m at Top Dog, but after the disaster with Monk in the studio, I couldn’t just go home to wait while he worked. There is no way I could sit on a couch with this electricity coursing through my body. Wind at my back, beneath my wings. On top of the world. All the clichés apply. When life is this great, alone is the last thing you want to be. I just want some fun. I deserve some fun, and I certainly wasn’t getting it from Monk.
As soon as I walk through the door, heads swivel and eyes latch on to me. It makes me strut a little, swaying my hips and lengthening my stride.
“Hey, lady,” Shelby, the hostess, greets me. “Where’s your man tonight?”
“He’s working. Borrrrrring.” I grin. “It’s just me.”
Her eyes rake over my body, a look she has given me more than once, but which I’ve never encouraged.
“I doubt you’ll be alone for long,” she says, “looking like that, but if you’re still solo at the end of the night, come find me.”
I don’t confirm or protest, but I do return her smile when she tugs one of my wayward curls. Harmless flirting. Monk wouldn’t mind.
Shelby seats me at a table in the middle of the room, the center of the universe. The air-conditioning pebbles my nipples beneath the thin silk of my dress. The wood of the chair is cool under the hot skin baked onto my thighs. My body is too tight for my heart, which is pounding to escape my chest. Under the table, my fingers twitch between my legs. I want to get myself off right here. I squirm, so turned-on I hope I don’t leave a wet spot on this dress.
God, I can still taste Monk’s dick in my mouth. I lick my lips and bite down. I needed that release so bad. I still need it. He doesn’t understand how this feels. A million fire ants are crawling under my skin. A furnace is blazing all over me, setting my pores on fire. I need to be fucked. He could make this feeling go away. That man can make me come at fifty paces, and he couldn’t take a few minutes out of his busy schedule to fuck his girl?
“Work, my ass,” I mutter, looking over the menu.
“Buy you a drink?”
I look up to find a guy standing beside my table. He’s medium height. Medium brown. I would probably forget him within the hour. He’s not as tall or handsome as Monk. He doesn’t radiate the confidence and charisma that comes so naturally to Monk. He can’t hold a candle to my boyfriend.
But Monk’s not here.
“I don’t drink.” I gesture to one of the three empty seats at the table. “But you’re welcome to join me.”
Looking shocked by the invitation, he takes the chair beside me and scoots a little closer.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Derrick,” he replies eagerly.
Monk’s not here, but Derrick is.
“A shame you don’t drink,” he says in what I assume is his sexy voice. “Because you look so good, I was planning to buy you anything you want.”
“Oh,” I say, my painted lips in a moue. “In that case, just this once, maybe I will.”