Anger followed not long after, chasing it through every nerve and fiber of my body. I wanted to break every bone in his goddamn body. I wanted to scream at him to get his hands off my girl.
I wanted him to feel the same agony I felt coursing through me as I realized Harlow no longer wanted me. That she had chosen this asshole over me.
Christ it hurt. And I had no idea of how to handle it.
I thrust my fist against the dashboard, the pain shooting up my wrist but barely registering against the heartache in my chest and the storm in my mind.
I tore my eyes away from them and buried my face in my hands. The scream inside my head was overwhelming. It fractured me, allowing my grief to spill free. I became aware of my rapidly beating heart and the quickened pulse in my neck.
Harlow didn’t want me. She wanted him. And when she knew I was back in town, she would break up with me and tell me she was going back to him.
My heart tripped on that last thought and I felt frantic.
My girl didn’t want me anymore.
Minutes passed with my head in my hands before I finally raised my face again. I tried not to look at them but my eyes sought them out before I could stop.
They were off the pathway now and descending the steps to the sidewalk below. They were laughing. In fact, Harlow looked highly amused. She had her arm looped through his and looked like a woman in love. She was beaming with it.
Goddamn beaming with it!
Was she really that relieved to be back with him?
Self-preservation kicked in and I briefly wondered if what I was seeing was true. Perhaps there was a perfectly reasonable explanation? No, there was no perfectly reasonable explanation for some guy to put his lips all over my girl.
As much as my heart wanted me to, I couldn’t deny that they looked like reunited lovers. And as if to confirm my fears, when I looked up they had stopped further down the sidewalk and she was kissing his mother fucking cheek and he was gently rubbing her arm. Jesus, the way she was looking at him as they spoke broke my heart and a part of me began to die.
I didn’t need to see any more. It was already taking all my strength to stop myself from ripping off the car door and tearing down the street to knock him off his feet. And two months ago that was probably what I would have done.
I inhaled and exhaled deeply, fighting off the heartache that was spreading through me.
The moment I’d always dreaded but had somehow expected, was here; Harlow had finally realized I wasn’t good enough for her and had gone back to her rich prince.
Even with my mind crazy with hurt, I realized it was much better to be angry because anger was much stronger than heartache. If I could hold on to my anger, I reasoned, this was going to hurt less. And watching them walk away in the Californian sunshine, it wasn’t hard to focus on my anger.
On autopilot, I drove back to the airport and like a zombie, purchased a ticket back to Vegas.
Suspended in a daze, all I could see was Harlow in Colton’s arms. Even the not-so-subtle interest of the flight attendant as she greeted me barely registered on my radar.
I sank into my seat and glared out the window.
Just before takeoff, a stunning woman with long black hair and penetrating blue eyes slipped into the seat next to me. She smelt like jasmine and offered me a sparkling smile. She was pure Vegas and definitely my type.
Or at least, my type-right-now.
Our flight was delayed fifty minutes but thankfully the flight attendant brought around the drinks trolley because the air conditioning was playing up and it was getting hot and stuffy. I bought myself and the girl next to me a drink, followed by several more. I knew I shouldn’t. I did dumb shit on alcohol. But seeing my girl in the arms of her ex-boyfriend made for a good excuse to break the rules. I was going to do my best to drink the visions of her with her ex out of my head.
With so much time to kill during the delay, and a few bourbons mixed in, there was a lot of flirting and inappropriate innuendo and banter back and forth with the girl next to me. At one stage she even rested her hand on my thigh and gave me a seductive wink.
By the time we took off, I was on my way to being numb drunk. Fifteen minutes later, my co-passenger and I were becoming a part of the exclusive mile high club in the first class toilet cubicle to the front of the plane. She straddled me with her long legs and climbed on top of the erection she had so expertly rolled a condom onto.
Bourbon swirled in me as her tongue filled my mouth and I filled her. With an unrestrained moan, she sank onto me, her hands holding my face as she kissed me, moaning into my mouth.
Anger erupted inside of me, restless and prickly, swirling and mixing with the bourbon. In my alcohol soaked mind this was revenge on Harlow for ditching me for that asshole. I didn’t need her. I could have any woman I wanted.
If she wanted to be with someone else, then so the fuck what?
Wasn’t this proof that I didn’t need her?
I ripped open the girl’s shirt, popping buttons along the way. Her big, beautiful breasts spilled free and I buried my face in them as she continued to ride me. My tongue found a nipple and she sighed, moaning as she rocked against me, grinding herself and sucking me deeply into her.
It was frenzied and sticky. The cubicle was small, cramped and hotter than hell. She rode me like an expert, sliding up the length of me and plunging back down to the hilt. I grabbed her legs and pulled her hard against me, pumping into her, trying to reach that moment of purity where my mind would only feel pleasure.
“I’m going to come … oh baby, I’m—” she cried out with her orgasm and I followed moments later, pumping into her angrily, blinded by the pleasure of my climax and the rage it collided with.
My heart thundered with unrestrained fury but even in that moment of blinding, angry pleasure, all I could see was Harlow in Colton’s arms. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes closed tighter, a guttural, agonized growl erupting from deep within me.
When we stilled my co-passenger looked down at me with her sultry eyes and smiled seductively. “Now that’s one way to pass the time,” she said, breathlessly. She shook her long hair out behind her and gave me a long hot kiss.
Thankfully she didn’t seem intent on hanging around. She climbed off me, replaced her thong and straightened her skirt. Then she shot me another sexy look, licked her lips and winked at me, and disappeared out the door.
I took a moment to think. Bourbon spun around in my head, making me hazy, although, it wasn’t enough to dull the ache in my chest or erase the realization that Harlow had picked that douche bag over me.
A quick glance in the mirror prompted me to smooth down my ruffled hair with my hands and without warning my face crumpled. I covered my eyes and held back a flood of emotion rising behind my usually unreadable face. I sucked in a deep breath. Jesus! I needed more alcohol or I was going to start crying.
Fighting off the pain and the tears, I mentally sought out the anger. If I could stay angry, I would be okay.
Back in my seat, I caught the drinks trolley again and threw back another bourbon. The girl—whose name I couldn’t remember—was thankfully not clingy or a talker. For the rest of the flight she spared me the unwanted small talk and after we landed she simply handed me her business card and said, “Maybe next time I can buy you a drink.”
It was late afternoon when I left the airport and despite being tanked, stopped at the bar in the hotel lobby for another round. I just wanted the pain to go away so I put away several more bourbons, and by the time I made it back my room I was fall down drunk.
I called Armie and left some ridiculously garbled message about not being able to make it to the meet and greet. Then letting my phone drop to the floor, I fell onto the bed and passed out.
It hurt less this way.
* * * * *
HARLOW