Needing Her (From Ashes #1.5)(8)

“But you—”

“Please, Maci,” he said, cutting me off. “Go back to your apartment.”

I stood there staring at the door long after he’d shut it in my face. That had gone completely different from the way I’d thought it would. I’d pictured Connor sitting on the edge of the tub, me between his legs as I helped get the stain off his face, shoulders, and chest. Which, of course, turned into my hands running other places, and Connor picking me up and depositing me on the bathroom counter. I’d pictured my head falling back as he repeatedly slammed into me, me crying out his name—

Jesus, my sex life was pathetic. I needed to stop reading so many romance novels.

“Don’t even try it, sweetie. He’s taken tonight.”

My head whipped to the right when I heard the sultry voice fill the hall, and my eyebrows shot up when I saw her. For f*ck’s sake, she looked like a whore. I’d put on my skimpy pajamas in preparation for Connor getting pissed and coming over tonight, and I was more covered than she was.

“W-what?”

She pulled her phone up to her ear and eyed me with a satisfied smirk on her face. “It’s cute that you’re trying to get his attention, but he needs a real woman to please him.”

I eyed her fake breasts that were one more bounce from falling out of her shirt and had the urge to cover my small ones.

“I’m here,” she said into the phone before dropping it in her purse. Watching the door expectantly next to me, she finally looked over to me again, one eyebrow raised. “You can leave now.”

I shook my head to clear the confused, and self-doubted haze I’d just been in, and started backing away when the door opened.

“Maci? What are you doing out here?”

I looked up to see Connor in a pair of low-slung jeans with the button undone. His chest bare and red from where he’d officially de-greenified himself. “Uh . . .”

The whore pushed by me and into Connor’s apartment before turning to look at me. “She was staring at your door, trying to get the courage to knock on it. It was kind of cute . . . in a puppy-looking-to-get-its-head-scratched sort of way.”

Connor’s head shot back to look at me, his eyebrows bunching together as he studied me.

“No, I just . . . I just needed my baking soda back.” Oh my God . . . someone shoot me. How long had I stood there daydreaming about Connor? I’m such a creeper!

Whorey McWhore-Slut choked out a laugh and grabbed Connor’s arm. His eyes had still been locked with mine, but at her touch he looked back to her and sighed. “I told you to go to sleep. I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

“Aww, is it past the little girl’s bedtime?”

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sadie,” he growled. “Go wait for me inside.”

Sadie rolled her eyes and huffed. “Whatever.”

I knew tomorrow I was going to look back on this and wish I’d said something to her. But at the moment, I felt unreasonably mortified by this entire thing. Dressing for him, playing out scenes in my head with him, standing outside his door for who knows how long as I played them all out . . . again. And then seeing the type of girl he does go after. Tons of makeup, perfectly curled hair that I’d bet would light up like a dry Christmas tree. Tall, fake body, little clothing, and an award-winning bitch-tude. The complete opposite of me. Eh, maybe except for the attitude.

Finally remembering how to move, I turned and walked toward my door, ignoring the first time Connor called my name.

“Maci, stop,” he demanded and grabbed my arm as I opened my door. “Look at me.”

Locking my jaw, I fought back the tightness in my throat and wondered why the hell I was about to cry as I turned to face him. And I really regretted giving him the baking soda. Maybe if he still had a green face, Sadie wouldn’t be in his apartment right now.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded my head, afraid of how my voice would shake if I tried to talk. I need to focus on something other than my humiliation. Be pissed that she’s in there and acting like she’s better than I am . . . yeah . . . oh, no. Angry tears. Nope. No. Bad idea.

“Tell me why you were outside my door.”

“I did,” I managed to choke out without sounding like a strangled cat.

“Mace . . . did you . . . did you ever go back into your apartment?”

I hated that he had me completely figured out. I hated that his voice had gotten soft and low in a way that had my daydreams flooding back into my mind. And I freaking hated that even though I had been with Bryce just the night before, I was ready to cry over the fact that he was about to sleep with the slut in his apartment.

“Of course I did,” I hissed and tried to jerk my arm back, but he didn’t let go.

He sighed as he studied me, before finally asking, “Do you need the baking soda right now, or can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

The corner of his mouth slowly tilted up into a smirk and he squeezed my arm. “Then I’ll see you in the morning, Mini.”

And that was the final, crushing blow. Every last ounce of air left my body as I launched myself into my apartment and shut the door. Mini. He f*cking called me Mini. I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh for being stupid enough to think that after years of wanting this man, something was finally about to happen. Or if I wanted to finally start crying over the fact that he liked women like Sadie and called me Mini. Like he was my brother or something.