relentless begging to give Justin another chance had something to do with that decision.
The following day, after he’d tried to take me by force at Marcus’s party, Justin had called and promised to stay off cocaine and abstain from heavy drinking. He said he’d do anything to make it up with me. A few days after that, he turned up with flowers, his handsome face filled with remorse, which then morphed into a big smile. I ended up accepting a dinner date with him, after which I went home with him.
The same thing happened. No fire. No foreplay. Just six or seven pumps in and out and it was over. He ended on his back, panting, and within a few minutes, he snored. As I stared up at the ceiling, I thought about Aggie’s gut-churning regret for having married the wrong man.
A few days later, we were back to being that same couple. Justin’s eyes would glaze over whenever I talked about my day. We’d watch dull reruns or any kind of sport known to mankind—even a quoit tournament of all things.
Nothing had changed, so I ended it.
But I could hardly skip my best friend’s engagement party—precipitous as it was, considering Cassie had been with Marcus only four months—so there I was.
Rather stupidly, I’d told my mom about Cassie’s engagement. Her finger shot into the air like a missile. “See, she has the good sense to marry a wealthy man.”
And once again, she reminded me that Justin was just as rich and promised a comfortable future…yada…yada.
“A boring future with no passion,” I’d muttered to myself. Talking to a parent about sex had never sat well. I wished I could have told my mom that as a twenty-four-year-old, I owed it to myself to experience sheet-gripping, heart-pumping lovemaking at least a few times before settling for its bland opposite.
Standing before the mirror, I wiped off a lipstick stain on my cheek, and for the umpteenth time, I stroked the silky chiffon cascading from my hips, which floated into a full circle when I twirled.
After I’d mentioned that I had an engagement party to go to and that I needed to buy a dress, Aggie had tapped my arm and asked me to wait. Ten minutes later, she’d descended the stairs slowly, carrying an exquisite pink Dior gown that would have taken my annual salary to buy.
“Here. This should fit,” she said, holding it before me.
“Are you kidding me? But this is too precious,” I protested—meekly since I wanted that dress.
She waved her hand dismissively. “Ah… I’ve got tons of them. And it looks like a perfect fit. All I ask is one thing.”
Stroking the fabric as one would a pet, I looked up at her.
“That you wear your hair down. It will look nice that way. You have such a lovely long neck. Wear a little ribbon around it. You know, as they did in the Victorian Era. That always drives men wild.”
My brow squeezed in tight. “I don’t know if I want to drive men wild, Aggie.”
“Whether you want to or not, you just will,” she said with a confident nod.
As I hugged the layers of silk that emanated an intoxicating floral perfume, a strange feeling wafted over that Aggie wished to relive her past through me.
Removing a tissue from my bag, I wiped my armpits before applying some fragrance. My night had been hijacked by tension, which had little to do with Justin circling around me.
It had started the moment Bronson entered. Even from a distance, he robbed me of air. The way he filled that tux as if it was stitched onto his strong body made me sigh. With that undressing gaze boring straight into me, I had to prop myself against a wall. His dark hair sat up in a perfect tangle, I couldn’t ignore those full lips that opened slightly as if about to ravish something.
But he was a criminal.
He’d been to prison.
He was wrong, wrong, wrong.
In every way.
But how could a man look like that and not make a woman dissolve into a puddle of desire?
Every time his eyes fell into mine, I felt so exposed. I even started to believe that actual steam rose out of my skin.
I did wonder if Bronson looked at every woman like that, as though he were fucking them with his eyes. I hadn’t noticed his attention shift from me. And when he did look away, he focused down at his feet.
Even though I kept reminding myself he was