Branded
Page 12
This is the conundrum my life has become in the span of a few weeks, and it’s seriously pissing me off.
“That’s what I thought,” Dax responds to my non-answer with a chuckle.
He moves back around behind his desk and flops down in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head casually. “Did you ever think it might have just been a neighbor’s kid playing a prank?”
I roll my eyes. “My neighbor’s son is six. I highly doubt they’ve covered the word ‘whore’ in his weekly spelling tests just yet.”
There’s a knock on the door and I glance over my shoulder to see the dispatch officer who showed me to Dax’s office stick her head inside.
“Captain wanted me to make sure you’re still coming to McCallahan’s tonight, Dax.”
She says his name all soft and breathy and I watch her lick her lips as she blatantly stares wide-eyed at the man behind me.
“Dollar drafts and he’s already started a pool that he’s going to kick your ass at darts,” she says with a giggle.
Dax laughs right along with her and I turn back around to watch him lean forward to rest his elbows on his desk, giving her a wink. “Wouldn’t miss it, Marcie. Seven o’clock?”
Her cheeks blush a deep shade of red, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at what’s happening right in front of me. A strong, confident woman in uniform who probably had to bust her ass twice as hard as every guy around her turned into a tittering twit the moment Dax showed her a little attention.
“Yep, seven. First round is on me,” she states with a smile and another pathetic giggle before pulling her head back through the opening and closing the door behind her.
I turn back to face Dax and raise an irritated eyebrow at him. “Drafts and darts, huh? Yes, you sound completely SWAMPED with the new job. Also, if you keep banging the women you work with, one of these days you’re going to get your balls shot off.”
Dax just laughs.
“First of all, the department is throwing a going-away party for me. It’s not like the guest of honor can just be a no-show. And second, I’ll have you know Marcie was very understanding about our one night together after I explained I was just under too much pressure at work to concentrate seriously on a wonderful woman such as herself. The same with Stacey, Amber, Johanna and Diane,” he counts on his fingers, naming all of the women I passed as I made my way through the department to his office.
“Jesus, maybe that note isn’t about me. It’s someone from your harem come to collect some payback,” I mutter.
“Hey, I make my intentions perfectly clear before any clothing is shed and orgasms are exchanged. You might want to try doing that sometime,” he chastises.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I scoff.
“Riiiight and DJ, a pretty good friend of mine, or so I thought, didn’t threaten to rip off all of my appendages one by one if I so much as looked at you again while he and I walked out to our cars the other night. Someone in this situation doesn’t seem to be on the same page, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”
The fact that DJ actually said something to Dax when they left my house comes as a surprise. I mean, I could see a touch of jealousy in his eyes and in some of his mannerisms the other night, but I just chalked it up to being a new experience for everyone. I thought maybe he wasn’t as comfortable with the situation as he initially indicated, but DJ does strike me as someone who doesn’t share his toys very well. It should bolster my spirits that he didn’t like what happened between us. He didn’t appreciate being made to feel like he wasn’t special and it was a shot to his ego that he couldn’t have me all to himself. I should be on cloud nine right now, gleeful that he got the payback he so richly deserved after leaving my heart shattered in a thousand pieces in high school.
Knowing he was jealous and fought with his friend doesn’t make me feel vindicated, however; it makes me feel like the slut he accused me of being. Fifteen years ago, I dreamed of him looking at me the way he did the other night – like I was his entire world and nothing else mattered but pleasing me, nothing else existed but the two of us. A part of me is glad that he hadn’t behaved that way all those years ago or I wouldn’t have survived the aftermath of what he did to me. Knowing he never loved me, never cared for me, never even remembered what the fuck happened the next morning fueled the anger instead of the depression. It gave me a goal: to one day teach him a lesson, to make him pay for the shit he pulled on me back then. The plan was to give him a taste of his own medicine so that I’d be the one walking away this time.
I should be happy that he thinks I’m a slut and a bitch. I should be able to just hold my head high and walk away, confident that he finally got what he deserved.
Unfortunately, my head is filled with the knowledge that not only is he jealous that another man had his hands on me, he’s stable and hard working and fucking saves people’s lives for a living. I should have never allowed him back into my life. I poison everything I touch and I know he’ll be no different. Why can’t I just be happy that I could potentially fuck up his life the way he did mine?
I need to stay away from him and he needs to stay away from me. No man will ever be able to understand what goes on in my head or why I do the things I do, certainly never someone like DJ. Why the hell couldn’t I just be attracted to Dax? He’s a manwhore who’s just in it for the sex. We could have spent a few weeks scratching mutual itches and then went our separate ways without any ruins left behind. Life would be so much easier if I wanted the bad guy instead of the good one.
“That’s what I thought,” Dax responds to my non-answer with a chuckle.
He moves back around behind his desk and flops down in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head casually. “Did you ever think it might have just been a neighbor’s kid playing a prank?”
I roll my eyes. “My neighbor’s son is six. I highly doubt they’ve covered the word ‘whore’ in his weekly spelling tests just yet.”
There’s a knock on the door and I glance over my shoulder to see the dispatch officer who showed me to Dax’s office stick her head inside.
“Captain wanted me to make sure you’re still coming to McCallahan’s tonight, Dax.”
She says his name all soft and breathy and I watch her lick her lips as she blatantly stares wide-eyed at the man behind me.
“Dollar drafts and he’s already started a pool that he’s going to kick your ass at darts,” she says with a giggle.
Dax laughs right along with her and I turn back around to watch him lean forward to rest his elbows on his desk, giving her a wink. “Wouldn’t miss it, Marcie. Seven o’clock?”
Her cheeks blush a deep shade of red, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at what’s happening right in front of me. A strong, confident woman in uniform who probably had to bust her ass twice as hard as every guy around her turned into a tittering twit the moment Dax showed her a little attention.
“Yep, seven. First round is on me,” she states with a smile and another pathetic giggle before pulling her head back through the opening and closing the door behind her.
I turn back to face Dax and raise an irritated eyebrow at him. “Drafts and darts, huh? Yes, you sound completely SWAMPED with the new job. Also, if you keep banging the women you work with, one of these days you’re going to get your balls shot off.”
Dax just laughs.
“First of all, the department is throwing a going-away party for me. It’s not like the guest of honor can just be a no-show. And second, I’ll have you know Marcie was very understanding about our one night together after I explained I was just under too much pressure at work to concentrate seriously on a wonderful woman such as herself. The same with Stacey, Amber, Johanna and Diane,” he counts on his fingers, naming all of the women I passed as I made my way through the department to his office.
“Jesus, maybe that note isn’t about me. It’s someone from your harem come to collect some payback,” I mutter.
“Hey, I make my intentions perfectly clear before any clothing is shed and orgasms are exchanged. You might want to try doing that sometime,” he chastises.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I scoff.
“Riiiight and DJ, a pretty good friend of mine, or so I thought, didn’t threaten to rip off all of my appendages one by one if I so much as looked at you again while he and I walked out to our cars the other night. Someone in this situation doesn’t seem to be on the same page, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”
The fact that DJ actually said something to Dax when they left my house comes as a surprise. I mean, I could see a touch of jealousy in his eyes and in some of his mannerisms the other night, but I just chalked it up to being a new experience for everyone. I thought maybe he wasn’t as comfortable with the situation as he initially indicated, but DJ does strike me as someone who doesn’t share his toys very well. It should bolster my spirits that he didn’t like what happened between us. He didn’t appreciate being made to feel like he wasn’t special and it was a shot to his ego that he couldn’t have me all to himself. I should be on cloud nine right now, gleeful that he got the payback he so richly deserved after leaving my heart shattered in a thousand pieces in high school.
Knowing he was jealous and fought with his friend doesn’t make me feel vindicated, however; it makes me feel like the slut he accused me of being. Fifteen years ago, I dreamed of him looking at me the way he did the other night – like I was his entire world and nothing else mattered but pleasing me, nothing else existed but the two of us. A part of me is glad that he hadn’t behaved that way all those years ago or I wouldn’t have survived the aftermath of what he did to me. Knowing he never loved me, never cared for me, never even remembered what the fuck happened the next morning fueled the anger instead of the depression. It gave me a goal: to one day teach him a lesson, to make him pay for the shit he pulled on me back then. The plan was to give him a taste of his own medicine so that I’d be the one walking away this time.
I should be happy that he thinks I’m a slut and a bitch. I should be able to just hold my head high and walk away, confident that he finally got what he deserved.
Unfortunately, my head is filled with the knowledge that not only is he jealous that another man had his hands on me, he’s stable and hard working and fucking saves people’s lives for a living. I should have never allowed him back into my life. I poison everything I touch and I know he’ll be no different. Why can’t I just be happy that I could potentially fuck up his life the way he did mine?
I need to stay away from him and he needs to stay away from me. No man will ever be able to understand what goes on in my head or why I do the things I do, certainly never someone like DJ. Why the hell couldn’t I just be attracted to Dax? He’s a manwhore who’s just in it for the sex. We could have spent a few weeks scratching mutual itches and then went our separate ways without any ruins left behind. Life would be so much easier if I wanted the bad guy instead of the good one.
