I’m steaming. I could literally heat the entire apartment building if I went back there right now and every tenant would wonder why their units were so hot, despite the fact that they turned the heat off hours ago.
Just another asshole. I don’t know why I even let myself think anything different about Malcom, but I did. But he just went ahead and showed his true colors. He’s a Slytherin—a Lannister. A devious, narcissistic bastard out for himself. He doesn’t know I’m out here watching, but I doubt it would even matter to him if he did at this point. He got what he wanted from me, and I signed his lease. What does he care what I think anymore?
My eyes scour every inch of his house from where I’m parked. What are they doing in there? I wonder. Who even is she? Why did she throw herself at him like that?
Terrible images flood my mind as I picture them together—something akin to my own horror pornography as I think about him doing things to her that are similar to the things he did to me and her enjoying them just as much as I did. Maybe even more. Maybe she’s more experienced than I am and is more able to relax than I was, and as a result, will have like fifty-five orgasms before passing out in his arms.
And in the morning, he’ll make her bacon and eggs and toast–
“Fucking hell!” I jam my car into drive and floor it, grinding my teeth together as I speed up the block and slide into his driveway, my tires screeching like I’m in the midst of a Hollywood movie chase.
Yup, here comes that psycho-bitch that I was worried about earlier. She’s coming out, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop her.
I’m headed straight for that other girl’s car—whoever the hell she is—Miss Black Dress and Heels. If I don’t brake soon, I’m going to slam right into it, total both vehicles, and probably end up in the hospital too. Damnit, Malcom, you son of a bitch. I can feel my heart just pounding with pain as my eyes blur with tears.
At the last second, I swerve and slam on the brake. The front end of my car narrowly misses the bitch’s back bumper, and I slide to a halt on Malcom’s front lawn, tearing the grass up in two long strips, narrowly avoiding disaster.
Yeah, they heard that, I think as I leap from the car and stride quickly up to the front door. I’ve never had an anxiety attack before, but I’ve had anxiety issues, and this is definitely qualifying as one of those as I reach out and grab the knob on Malcom’s front door.
It’s unlocked, so I just let myself in as Malcom and the black-dress-and-heels bitch are coming out from the living room. Only now, she’s no longer wearing a black dress and heels; she’s wearing short-shorts and a T-shirt, like she just threw something on in a panic when she heard someone at the door—threw something on because she was naked two seconds ago.
“What the hell, Erika?” he calls out, trying to glance over my shoulder through one of the windows by the door to get a look at the damage I’ve just created. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” I scoff. “That’s rich.” I pivot my eyes to the girl and then back to him. “That’s rich coming from you right now.”
Malcom’s face hardens, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re joking, right? That’s what this is about?”
The girl laughs. “There’s no way–”
Malcom silences her with a hand gesture. Wow, the two of them must be really close. Either that or she just doesn’t have the balls to stand up for herself.
“How did you even—are you stalking me or something?” Malcom asks.
“No, I’m not stalking you,” I snap. “And don’t change the subject either. You don’t call me for thirty days, and then I find you with her?”
This time, the girl bursts out laughing like I’m Don Rickles and she’s Frank Sinatra and I’ve just told her the funniest joke of my career. Malcom holds up a hand to silence her, but this time, she completely ignores him and leans up against the wall with one hand on her stomach like her guts might fall out if she laughs any harder.
“Is something funny?” I say, feeling the anger inside me threatening to overwhelm the anxiety. I can’t even begin to describe how hurt I’m feeling as I try my best to fight off images of Malcom and her going at it on the couch. I bet his fingers smell like her pussy right now. I don’t even want to go near him. “Something funny about leading me on while you’ve got yourself another woman right here? How many other women do you have, Malcom?”
The girl is still snickering as Malcom raises his hands and approaches me slowly. I back away.
“Erika, take a breath.”
“Answer me!” I’m trying not to scream. Don’t be hysterical. Of course I’ve already failed in that department.
“Erika, this is Nikki,” he says gently. “She is my sister.”
Embarrassment washes over me like the wave of a tsunami. I glance over at Nikki, who is still laughing, but who is clearly doing her best to get herself back under control.
“Your sister…” I repeat slowly.
“Yes.” Malcom nods. “She is having issues with her husband, who I don’t like, for the record, and decided to come cry on big-brother’s shoulder tonight after their planned date-night didn’t go quite as she expected it to.”
“Yes, you don’t like him,” Nikki chimes in, an edge to her voice. “You’ve reminded me many times.”
“And taken you into my house many more–”
“Okay, okay,” Nikki groans, waving her hand. “What do you want me to say? Thank you? I’ve said it before.”
My heart is sinking. I’m gasping for breath. The size of the mistake I’ve made tonight—could it be any bigger? I can feel my pulse racing in my hands, in my neck, in my toes. I’ve got to get out of here.
“I’m gonna go,” I say as I turn for the door. But as I reach out for the doorknob, I feel Malcom’s hand on my wrist.
“Whoa, wait a second there.” He spins me toward him like we’re dancing and catches me in his arms. But I can’t even look at him. I turn my head and stare at the wall, where a painting hangs there of a coastline as the sun sets. “You’re not leaving right now.”
“I’m not?” My voice is barely a whisper. He’s telling me what to do, and for some reason, I’m nearly happy to let him. Yes, boss me around. I need you to.
“No. Not right now you’re not,” he says. “Nikki, go sleep in the guest house. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Okay, boss.” I’m sure she has more to say, but she’s being nice to me for whatever reason. God, think about how terrible I must look right now for her to do that. I keep my eyes on the painting but hear her footsteps as she makes her way out the back. Once the door closes, Malcom takes me by the chin and forces me to look up at him.
“I would never do that to you,” he says firmly, his eyes filled with sincerity. “I’m not like your ex.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. We’re not dating, Malcom,” I reply, somewhat spitefully. “You made that quite clear when you didn’t call me.”
For the first time since I met him, I see Malcom falter. He pauses as though he’s going to say something, then stops and visibly chooses something else.
“I had my reasons.”
“Oh?” I ask. “And what were those?”
To my surprise, I feel his hand slip up my shirt and cup my breast. I should grab it and pull it out of there—No, you don’t get to do that right now—but I don’t. I let him, and my whole body comes alive.
“I don’t know if the girl that just tore up my lawn and came bursting into my house at one in the morning gets to demand anything from me right now,” Malcom replies with a grin, shifting his grip to my other breast and squeezing the nipple with just the right amount of pressure.
“Oh, is that right?” I ask. “But the guy who doesn’t call me for a month has access to my body?”
“You gave me your virginity,” he replies, sliding his palm down my stomach until he reaches the hem of my pants. He pops the button and slips two fingers inside. “I have access to your body whenever I want—forever.”
This is crazy. I don’t think I should be letting this happen right now, but I also don’t have the ability to stop him. No, that’s not right actually—I don’t want to stop him. The way he’s taking me like he owns me is turning me on in a very primal way. I should be furious and push him to explain himself about the last thirty days, but as his two fingers find my clit, I can’t do anything but slump forward and let my face fall against his strong, manly chest.
“I—we shouldn’t,” I stammer in a whisper.
“Oh, yes we should,” Mal replies, his voice a growl in my ear. “And we’re going to.”
