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The phone rangjust as I put my key in the door and without thinking I rushed to answer. “Jake?” Well shit, how did she get this number?
It was the one place I knew I could get away from her because I’d never shared my home number with her.
“What do you want Jillian?” Fuck! I had no intentions on ever talking to her ass again. “I think someone’s been following me.”
“What? Where are you, are you home? Stay there I’m on my way.” It was only as I was in my car breaking the speed limit to get to the home we once shared that I realized how telling my reaction was.
Dammit Jacob. It didn’t matter, no matter how I now felt about her, she was someone I once cared for and if she was in danger I couldn’t just ignore her. That’s the lie I told myself all the way to her damn door.
She met me there and I swallowed at the sight of her like I’d been dying for it and hadn’t even realized.
“Did you call the cops?”
“Why would I do that?” I followed her into the house and rolled my eyes behind her head. That cheerleading scholarship had come in real handy; twit.
Fuck it, she’s my ex, I can think anything I want about her. The ten million I had to give her in the settlement said so.
“You would do that if you think your life is in danger.” I informed her the way you would a five year old as to why he shouldn’t play with matches.
She tied the sash of the short silk robe she wore as she walked ahead of me and right away my eyes went to her ass. Fuck me! Even my cock was betraying me.
“I didn’t say that, I just said I think I’m being followed.” Oh no, if she got me over here on some bullshit I’m gonna wring her damn neck. “Jillian, are you or are you not being followed?”
She pouted and looked everywhere but at me. That’s when I noticed how twitchy she was. I squinted at her, reading her body language.
You don’t spend two years fucking a woman every time you look at her without learning her body and every damn thing about her.
“Look at me.” She hunched her shoulders and kept her head turned. Little shit was up to something. I walked over to stand in front of her, hands on my hips pushing back the suit jacket I hadn’t had time to ditch since she called me as soon as I reached the damn apartment.
When she bit into her lip and stared at my crotch I knew I was right about what the hell I was doing there. “Jillian I’m only gonna ask you this one more time. Are you in some kind of danger or not?”
“Well…” she did the twirling her hair around her finger shit and I grunted in frustration. Without another word I turned and headed for the door. No way am I doing this shit.
That glass of cognac wasn’t going to do it I’m gonna need the whole damn bottle. “No Jake wait.” She flew across the room and came after me, grabbing the back of my jacket.
I pulled out of her hand and turned, my face set like a storm cloud. “I’m not in the mood for one of your fucked up games.”
“I’m not playing games Jakey.” I hate when she calls me that. It used to be cute when we were together and I knew she was trying to wheedle something out of me, but now the shit just grates on my nerves.
“Look I have shit to do.” I headed for the door again and she hit me in the back with her body. I felt her chest pressed into me and gritted my teeth against my body’s reaction. Fuck no!
I moved away again and turned to look at her. “I’m outta here I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Can’t you even give me two minutes? I’m your wife...”
“Ex-wife! You divorced me remember. Because you got a hair up your ass about me cheating with someone that didn’t even exist, and you wanted out so you got out. Now what the fuck do you want?”
“Well you don’t have to be so mean.” There she goes with that cute Georgia pie accent of hers that she knows gets my dick going.
But not this time sister. I’m onto your tricks I’m not taking a ride on the fuck me over train with your ass again.
I looked down at her gorgeous face but it wasn’t the amazing blue of her eyes, or the cupid bow shape of her lips I saw.
“Oh I get it; I know that look. You wanna fuck huh. Ok let’s get it done.” I grabbed her hand and headed for the stairs.
