She stopped beside
her ex’s table.
“Hello, Cameron,” Kara greeted him. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, her voice full of sass. “How are the drugs working, honey?”
Cameron, who was taking a sip of his drink, choked at Kara’s question.
His date looked up at Kara, confused. “Drugs?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t you know?” Kara’s voice dripped with fake sympathy. “He needs drugs to get it up. It’s going to be a very short, very soft ride for you, sweetie. Ta-ta for now!” She flicked her fingers in a wave of goodbye and hurried to the exit.
“Goddamn it, Kara!”
I startled as I heard Cameron speak. He rose, sliding out from his seat and racing past me after Kara. “Kar! Get back here!”
By the time I caught up to them outside, I was surprised at the sight before me. Cameron was gripping her arms, his lips on hers. I watched as she kneed him in the balls and he crumpled to the ground, his face twisting in agony.
“Kara, you—” Cameron wheezed.
She kicked him in the stomach before he could finish.
“What the hell, Kar?” I yelled, pulling her back from the poor guy.
She sneered down at him. “Don’t you ever, ever touch me again with those filthy phalanges, you motherfucking dickless baboon!”
Chapter Eight
Veronica
By the time I got home, it was late. I stepped off the elevator and walked to Caleb’s apartment door, entering the code on the keypad. The door made a muted beeping noise before the locks clicked open. The lights were on, and I could detect a faint smell of burned toast. Caleb must be home.
I felt guilty for not cooking dinner. I had planned on getting home earlier to make something for Caleb to eat, but I’d spent more time with Kara than I’d planned. I made a mental note to give my resignation to my other part-time job since Kara offered more hours and pay.
“Caleb?” I called out, covering my eyes with my hand and opening just a slit between my fingers so I could see where I was going. Better safe than sorry. He had a habit of walking around naked in his home. I could still remember—
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and tried to assassinate the feeling of excited anticipation at seeing him again.
I found him in the kitchen, standing in front of the open fridge, drinking a glass of orange juice. He wore a crisp black suit and tie, his bronze hair slicked back to frame his gorgeous face.
The suit caught me off guard. He looked so good that he seemed unreal. Had he gone to another charity event with his mother?
I just stood there, immobilized, unable to pry my gaze away. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw me. He closed the fridge and placed the glass on the counter. Slowly, he lifted his head. Our eyes met.
Silence.
Embarrassed, I broke our gaze, but my eyes couldn’t help dragging to his lips. They were rosy, irresistible, and probably cold from drinking his favorite juice.
His tongue quickly darted out to lick the juice on his lips. That was too much. The butterflies were in my stomach now, wreaking havoc with my emotions.
“Hi, Red. Like what you see?” His voice was huskier than normal.
Oh God.
The tub of peanut butter last night almost made me succumb to his charms again. Almost. I barely looked at him and answered his questions with one-word answers, planning to make his pancakes as fast as I could, then run back to my room. Other than our encounter last night, I’d been away from him for a long time, and I felt overwhelmed now that his full attention was on me. I blushed, forcing myself to look away from him. Where was my tongue? My brain? I couldn’t let him take the upper hand.
“I see,” he said quietly, his voice deepening. “Are you just going to pretend I’m not turning you on right now?”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.