Page 213 of Bridesmaid Undercover
God, he’s annoying. I can’t even have this.
I raise my chin. “Out of fear that Maple might be wearing the same dress, I think I’ll pick something else.” I scoot past him, but he doesn’t let me get far as his hand connects with my exposed stomach, stopping me in my place.
“I can help you take it off.”
“I’d rather have a rabid dog lick it off me.” I push past him and out to where he deposited some dresses on the couch. I paw through them, not finding anything that I would ever wear.
When I straighten back up, I catch him out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the wall of the dressing room, arms folded across his chest, watching my every move.
“Why don’t you be helpful,” I say. “You’re not doing anyone any good by just staring at me.”
“Not true. I feel pretty good about it.”
I roll my eyes and move toward the rack of dresses again, this time, searching for something that would actually be appropriate to wear. The idea of making him jealous quicklybackfired, so I’m on to plan B—get out of here as quickly as possible.
Because I’m nervous that if I don’t…I will make bad choices.
There’s something in the air, something that…that I can’t seem to control when he’s around.
When I look at him, I have this deep-rooted irritation at him. I’m mad at him.
Angry.
Frustrated.
And yet, whenever he seems to come near me, touch me, I can feel that anger and frustration temporarily fade away as my mind wanders back to that night.
A night when I felt cherished and appreciated…desired. When I assumed I was the one he wanted. When he slept next to me all night, naked, occasionally waking me up with his mouth, his soft lips pressing against my warm skin.
As much as I hate to admit it, I still think about that night. I still think about the way it felt to be held by him, touched by him, kissed by him. What it felt like to have him spread my legs and rock in and out of me, demanding more. How I quickly fell victim to his pleasure, his dirty mouth, his unkept promises. That night, he offered me a drug, a high that I seem to keep chasing even though I don’t want to.
And that high…it’s heavily present right now.
I can see it in his eyes.
Hear it in his voice.
Observe it in the length of his strut and the sturdy set in his shoulders.
He’s out to get me again.
He’s hungry, and I’m his prey.
And I know I should run away. I should take off at a gallop, get as far away as I can, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head, a devil on my shoulder, whispering…just one moretaste, just one more fuck. Let him give you what you want just one more time.
No.
I’m not.
I’m not going to give in.
It will only hurt me in the end.
So, with my chin held high and my mind set on hurrying this along, I sift through the dresses, looking for a simple neckline that won’t reveal too much and something classy that I could feel proud representing the business in.
After a few minutes, I find three dresses that I know will work. I just need to check the sizing. So, I drape them over my arm and turn toward the dressing room where Hardy is still standing, waiting for me.
“You know, I really have this covered if you want to take off,” I say.
