Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
K AYLA
In what universe did I think that anything would change?
Nothing has. He still talks to her and still puts her first, even after everything he knows.
His feelings for her must run deep for him to close his eyes to everything.
I mean, they clearly had a talk, and yet she comes to him so casually.
What did I expect after the revelation? That he’d leave her right away and come to me?
R-r-r-right. They share years of history, whatever their relationship was, and that’s hard to erase.
I should know. To be honest, it hurts. Seeing them together hurts.
Even if he doesn’t exactly look happy right now.
But I don’t exactly know what they were talking about.
I sigh and walk to his auto shop. I’ve never really been inside, only peeked in through the open doors.
There are three guys inside. I’ve seen two of them around town, but I don’t know their names, and the third is Paul Rogers, the guy who’s been crushing on Marina for years now.
Even though he’s a head shorter than her, he’s trying.
As far as I’ve seen, he’s been successful.
I shake my head, trying to forget the moment I saw him sucking her face off a few months ago.
“Hey, Kayla. I got your keys here.” He digs into his seemingly bottomless breast pocket as he trots to greet me. “Here you go. Good thing you replaced that alternator. If it died while you were driving, that’d suck.” He hands me my keys while I gape at him.
“I replaced what?” I almost keel over.
“The alternator,” he repeats. “The new battery and the brakes are good too. Must be expensive to get the factory ones. Probably cost more than the car itself now.” His chuckle makes his mustache wiggle.
I stand with my arm outstretched, my mouth still agape. “I haven’t changed anything, Paul.”
“Oh.” His mouth forms an o , and his gaze darts around. “Well, someone must have done it for you.” He awkwardly pats my shoulder and walks away, leaving me feeling extremely uncomfortable.
Looks like the mystery of my car’s miraculous recovery just got resolved— someone upgraded the parts without my knowledge. And the only someone who could have done that…
I’m about to turn on my heel and leave when I decide to ask what time they close the shop. Paul says that he’s about to lock up. Conflicted, I get into my Jeep and patiently wait for my brain to make a decision.
I want to thank Justin—I know it’s him. But why would he do that for me when he still hated me? I don’t understand. I keep bringing my thumb to the call button next to his name on my phone screen but decide against it every time. He clearly didn’t want to see me a few moments ago.
Soon, the guys leave the garage. Justin still isn’t here. I start my car, reluctantly about to drive off, when there’s a loud knock on my window. I jump in my seat with a yelp.
“It’s just me.” Justin’s standing there with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Don’t freak out.”
“Oh.” I let out a relieved breath and roll the window down.
“What are you doing here?” He lost a little of that anger, but it’s still there. His not-exactly-friendly question indicates that I’m not really welcomed here.
“I’m—” I clear my throat. “Actually, I was waiting for you.”
“Why?” He narrows his eyes.
“I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?” He leans his hands on the hood.
“For my car.”
He sighs. “Let’s go talk inside. I’m starving.”
I know it’s not a very good idea, and I can thank him right here and right now—it would take literally thirty seconds.
But I like some emotional pain, apparently, so I roll the window shut, get out of the car, and follow him inside.
To be honest, I’m curious to see how Justin lives.
He saw my home; it’s only fair I see his.
We go to the back of the building; there are stairs to the second level. We go up, and he unlocks the door, heading inside. I follow him.
Looking around, I see that my old crush is a slob. Different pieces of clothing are splayed everywhere, pizza boxes and soda cans are chilling on the table, and in the living room, dishes are piled up in the sink. Nice .
He walks to the fridge, pulls a beer out, and offers it to me. “Want one?”
“No, thank you.”
He opens a can for himself and asks, “What did you want to talk about?”
“I wanted to thank you for fixing my car.”
“No problem. It’s just an oil change.” He shrugs.
“Yes, but also the other things you fixed.” I look at him impactfully.
His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. I think I’ve seen luxury brands sell that same shade under the name ‘screaming orgasm.’ “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I quirk a brow.
“Really.” He looks everywhere but at me, and it’s adorable.
“Justin. We both know you fixed my car, and I thank you for that. You’re probably the only reason I haven’t slid off the road somewhere.” And then I go off on a limb here and touch his shoulder. It freezes and instantly bunches under my palm.
“Don’t touch me,” he growls, and my hand drops just as bile rises up my esophagus. I’m nauseous all of a sudden. Well, that was a clear message.
“Ah, okay. Sorry.” I all but run to the door, begging the universe to swallow me whole as soon as possible.
“Shit,” he says, but I’m out of the door and already running down the stairs, nearly breaking my ankle when I miss a step. “Kayla,” he calls out.
But I’m not listening. This is so incredibly embarrassing. Like, oh-my-gosh-I’m-leaving-this-planet-right-now embarrassing. Blood roars in my ears from how fast I run, and I can’t hear a thing. I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist, and I scream bloody murder. It pulls me into a hard chest.
“Stop yelling,” Justin hisses into my ear, and I calm down a notch. “For fuck’s sake, stop flailing, Kayla.”
But I don’t stop, and I keep trying to kick him, so he lets me go.
When my foot finally lands on his shin, he growls, throws me over his shoulder, and heads back to the apartment.
When we’re upstairs, he walks to the couch and drops me on it.
I land with a loud thump, my hair falling over my eyes, and I can’t see anything.
While I’m trying to clear my view, Justin growls like a wild beast. “The fuck did you run for?”
“Seriously?” I hiss, trying to pull myself up, but he leans over and pushes me back, and I land on the couch once again.
“Seriously, Justin? You just hissed at me and told me not to touch you. I only offered a friendly gesture. I don’t think you’re capable of changing, no matter how much I wish you would.
You’re still an asshole! Every time I start to think you’re not, you prove you are!
” I try to stand up again, but he pushes me back.
Standing in all his six-foot-two glory, he clenches and unclenches his fists. His nostrils flared. His eyes wild.
“Do you think I can tolerate your touch when I’m like that?” He gestures at himself.
“You tolerated my touch just fine yesterday.” I look at him from my low position.
“Oh, no. I wasn’t mad like that. No.” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Now I’m mad.”
“For touching you? Seriously? You got so mad over me touching you? What the hell, man? Really.” I can’t say I’m not offended because I am.
“Oh no.” He puts one knee on one side of me. “That’s not why I’m mad.” He then puts his hands on the back of the couch, framing my head, and leans closer. “I’m mad at you for doing something I told you not to do.” Then he brings his face closer and whispers, “Kayla.”
“What?” I croak.
“Oh yeah.” He licks his lips, and my eyes dip to watch his tongue.
“I told you not to talk to him. Not to spend time with him. And here you are, flirting,” he inhales deeply, “mingling your scent with his, rubbing on him like you’re some cat in heat.
You’re fucking lucky you still smell like you and not him.
” My heart stops beating. I’ve never seen Justin so possessive, but now, he is an alpha pissing on his territory.
And I fucking love it.
“What are you doing, Justin?” I whisper after I lick my own lips, unconsciously wetting them.
“I’m thinking the same thing, Kayla.” He dips his head and quickly presses his lips to mine in a butterfly-like kiss. “What am I doing? I’m still fucking mad at you. At him. At fucking Ashley.”
“Oh, Ashley .” Horny clouds over my head dissolve in a second at the mention of her name, evaporating completely into oblivion. Way to go, Justin.
“Yeah, I hate her.”
“Just like you hated me, but still wanted to fuck?”
His chuckle is dark. “I never hated anyone as much as I hated you.” He plants his other knee on the couch, and now he’s straddling me, but holding his weight off. “Just like I never wanted to fuck anyone as much as I wanted to fuck you.”
My breathing quickens. He admitted he hated me the most, but I didn’t hear that part. No, all I heard was that he wanted to fuck me the most.
“And I’m still so fucking mad at you for letting the fuckface near you. So mad.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Should I punish you for that?”
He straightens, and his huge dick is straining his jeans right in front of my face.
I swallow nervously and look up. When I meet his eyes, he smiles.
“That’s what I like to see.” He brings his finger under my chin and lifts it up.
“You, right where you’re supposed to be, with your mouth open, looking so innocent and scared. ”
I think my panties just evaporated. I knew Justin was a very experienced man, but I never expected him to be so dirty.
And I never expected myself to be the one to like it.
“Should I punish you for that?” he says as he plants his hand on his cock and strokes it a few times over the jean material.