Throwing the bottle down beside her, with her glare still on me ready to kill, I walk to the door. “I’m out.”
CHLOE
“I hate him!”
Vin snickers and takes a seat at my desk. “Did he touch you?”
Oh, how easy it would be to say yes and never have to hear from Gunner Theriot, again. But I won’t go that low by making up something or telling him about the hand prints I’m sure to have on my ass cheeks. I’ll give Gunner that one. Everything else put aside, I owe him for what I did to his car. It was overboard, even for me.
“You mean other than manhandling me out of a club or pushing me into the trunk of his car?”
Vin loses all patience. “Yeah Chloe. Other than that.”
“No,” I say, flatly.
“Good.”
GUNNER
The minute the door shuts, I almost feel bad for Chloe. Almost. I take off down the hall and see the drunk dickhead from last night still in the same spot I left him in. Kicking his side, he grumbles. I kick him again.
“Dude?!”
“Bathroom?”
“What?”
“Where are the bathrooms?”
“Down the hall.” He points, and I leave his ass there to find some damn relief.
Strolling back towards Chloe’s room, I glance at the door wondering how bad Vin’s laying into her, but keep walking past it, finding the bathroom pretty quick. It’s a large room with stalls for toilets, showers, and a long wall of lavatories for washing your hands and brushing your teeth. A big communal shit show. Except for the hottie in a towel, washing her face.
“Hey,” I tell her with a wink.
She looks up in the mirror and instantly smiles, giving me an appreciative look-over. Turning my attention to a stall, I leave the door open so she can appreciate my back as I take a wide stance, relieving myself. With one hand gripping the top of the stall and the other on my dick, I can feel towel babe’s stare on me. Shaking it off, I turn around before putting my dick away, giving her a sight of the real thing, I know she’s thinking about.
“Hi,” she says, all breathy like.
Almost an hour later, I walk out of the dorm building, tucking my shirt back into my pants, finding Vin leaning against the hood of my car.
Tilting my head to the side, I tell him, “There isn’t much you can do to make me want to strike you, except sit your ass on Betty. Get off.”
Vin’s mouth tips to the side, finding humor in my statement. “Where were you?”
“None of your business. I’m not Chloe.”
“True, but seriously, you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet?”
“What can I say? There’s a lot of pretty things in that building.”
He finally stands up and tells me, “I’m going to arrange for you to have a rental and send your car to our guys to be fixed.”
“The hell you are.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I inform him, “No one works on Betty but me.”
“Okay, then what do you suggest? How much?”
“Of course, you’re going to pay for the princess’s fuck ups. Whatever.” I walk to the driver door and tell him, “I’m going to ask Marcus if I can use one of his garages to do the work myself. I’ll send you the bill.”
He nods his head.
Before getting into Betty, I ask, “Anything else, Mr. Stern?”
He might have thrown his name and status in my face last night, but he sure in the hell doesn’t like me throwing it back. Not caring, I get in my car and take off.
CHLOE
Vin tried not to be too hard on me, but come on. The fact he was here at all pisses me off and I told him as much. He wants me to understand Brittany’s point of view. She has none that would make me understand all the rules I’ve had to live through when she was… I can’t even say it.
All I hear in my head is her constant nagging, “Go to school, Chloe. Get good grades, Chloe. You need to come to church with me, Chloe. Go to bed at a decent time, Chloe. No, Chloe, you cannot have a job. No, Chloe, parties will just lead to trouble. Boys? What do you want to do with boys? They are only trouble. Get your education Chloe, and then you can find a husband.” Hell, not even a boyfriend. She went straight for husband. Oh, and my all-time favorite, “Why are you hanging out with those girls? They’re loose.” Just like my mom would tell her. At least she never said the word, slut or whore. That would be just too hypocritical.
Then… then, she has the nerve to marry into the mafia. Bad boy central. When I’m not supposed to even date a clean-cut boy.
Jesus, the amount of times I had to hear the talk from her. How sex was dangerous and had consequences. Sex was something she said was to be cherished by someone who loved me and would treat me right. You want to know how many times I had to hear the same bullshit? Every damn time I even mentioned a boy’s name. So much so that, yes, I went behind her back and had a date or two, but her damn voice kept ringing in my ear. Sure, I let them kiss me, I even let two of them touch me, but then I’d always hear Brittany’s voice in my head, “He’s just going to use you.”
UGH!!!! That’s why I’ve never gone any further. From there, I made excuses not to see any of them again. Not that any of them really did it for me, anyway.
Vin left about a half an hour ago and I’m still seething. Laying in my bed, mindful of my sore ass, I stare at the ceiling, inhaling deeply, getting a whiff of the lingering smell of a man being in my bed. It’s a nice scent; smells just like a man should, not overly fragrant with perfumes or crap. Then I remember its Gunner’s smell, and I don’t want to like the scent. That man… that man… God, I hope I never have to see him again. He’s a total asshole. There’s not a damn thing about him, I, or any other woman should find the least bit attractive. Does he even have a personality? Other than asshole?!
What is it with his look? Shaggy dark hair which looks like he should pass a comb through it more often. Hazel eyes that are always on guard to warn you off. Then his clothes. I’ve only seen him a handful of times but most of time he’s wearing casual clothes like any other twenty-something year old. Nothing like how the Sterns dress. They each care greatly about their appearance, especially in public. The few times I did see him in a suit, they were cheap and wrinkled. Except for that one time. For Zander’s birthday, he looked impressive. He caught my eye for about ten seconds, then I was reminded what an ass he was when he called me a princess, dissing me in front of everyone. No, nothing about Gunner appeals to me.
My door swings open, hitting the wall startling me. It’s Hannah, which is a blessing because I’m spending way too much of my time thinking about Gunner Theriot.
Sitting up, I ask, “Is there a fire?”
She scans my room before shutting the door and races toward me. I’m waiting for her to lay into me about embarrassing them last night, but she jumps on the bed and starts rambling,
“Where is he? Who was he? Where did you meet him? And why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Excuse me? Who? My brother-in-law?”