Chapter 37
I pulled over once I left Lucas and Becks’ street. Into another quiet neighborhood and slammed my hands against the steering wheel. That fucking woman. This is why I only slept with women that I never saw again.
I couldn’t get her blonde hair and blue eyes out of my mind.
The taste of her mouth.
The sound of her cries.
The perfection of her submission.
Caroline Foster had come back to town and thrown me for a loop. I’d felt her eyes on me since she’d gotten back. I’d been flirtatious.
I don’t even know how I’d ended up at the cafe after finishing my shift the night Jackson had died. I was a mess and feeling guilty as hell.
There she fucking was with her cookies and hot tea. Then coming around and pressing that body up against me.
The next thing I’d known I had the door locked and her on the counter in the back. She didn’t shy away from my roughness, my need for control. I wouldn’t call myself a Dom. But I liked calling the shots.
I liked giving pleasure to such an extreme that women were sobbing and nearly blacking out by the time I was done with them.
She’d broken so beautifully for me.
I growled, slamming my head into the headrest and hitting my steering wheel again.
It couldn’t happen again.
Who cares if she had been perfect?
If she’d consented and followed my every demand?
If she’d been the perfection I’d been looking for my entire life, but never deserved.
It couldn’t happen.
She was fifteen years younger than me.
She deserved someone her own age. Someone she could have children with and who could be a good father. I couldn’t even take care of a nineteen-year-old that wasn’t my child.
I needed to move on.