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I don’t belong doing this.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I can’t do this.
Doubt has me darting to the open door; however, Bryn’s voluptuous body, cloaked in a red, satin, mini dress – which looks more lingerie than anything meant for a public outing – stops me dead in my tracks.
Commands my jaw to the floor.
Whispers to my shaky knees that they’re next.
“I knew it,” she openly declares on a slow shake of the head, attention soaking in every part of me finally revealed. “I fucking knew it.”
And so did I.
I knew she’d be disgusted.
Regret this decision.
Me.
“You really do have one brown eye and one blue.”
Bewilderment knits my brow tightly together.
“I fucking knew I wasn’t crazy.” Her head tips to one side, long, flowing locks, dangling temptingly to one side. “And I knew they’d be even harder to fucking resist when I saw them together.”
Further bafflement leaves my mouth agape.
“You clean up quite nice, Mr. Wilcox. This,” Bryn waves an index finger up and down in reference to my entire frame, “is the man who makes my panties wet.” A tiny bite of her glossed bottom lip is taken. “You know…when I wear them.”
What the hell is happening?
Am I…hallucinating?
Is she?
Does walking through that door put us in an alternate dimension where she sees with her ears instead of her eyes?
Or is she just…saying the shit she thinks I need to hear?
Lying to me out of sympathy.
Pity.
“There’s no need for your benevolence, Bryn.” Clearing my throat occurs between declarations. “I accept my disfigurement for the disgusting display that it is.”
“The only thing I find disgusting in this room is the tone you’re using towards me about my date.” Her arms fold defensively underneath her tits, drawing extra, unnecessary attention to them. “It’s the same one that misinformed idiots use accusing all shark species to be a danger to humans when in reality it’s only a few.” There’s no pause for a rebuttal. “You are entitled to have your opinion, but you are not entitled to tell me mine.”
Disbelief sends my mouth back to the floor.
Holy shit.
Maybe I should hire her.
Something tells me she’d do amazing things in the PR department.
Once she’s convinced her point has been clearly made, she offers me a mischievous smirk. “You ready for a wild evening, Mr. Wilcox?”
