Big thank you to Mel, April, Lara and Dani who held my hand through writing the next couple of chapters!
32. Isabella
My heart is pounding into my ears; blood rushing to my ears that make my head spin. Why the fuck did I tell him? And why am I surprised Ginger was there? Did he see it? Did he see me, all weak and broken?
"You can't smoke in here," I mumble instead, my fingers aching to light one up myself.
His green eyes search my face intensely before he smirks and arches his eyebrows at me. "If I give you one, will you shut up about it and actually talk to me?"
"You want me to shut up, or talk?" I ask him. "Make up your mind, Ginger." I decide to play with him a little, to see if he'll explode. I just don't want to talk about this right now. Not again.
"Fucking brat," he mutters under his breath. I look up and challenge him, but he drops his gaze and apologizes for being so insensitive.
"Havoc." My name tumbles from his lips like a prayer. His voice is laced with concern. It matches his heavy-lidded eyes, his luscious lips hang down at the corners. "C'mon," he urges. "You better not bury shit like this. You gotta talk about it." He stands and retrieves a crystal bowl from the desk. After he taps his ashes into the bowl, he throws it on the coffee table and sits back down.
"I don't feel like talking about it—not now. I've done nothing but talk about it with my therapist, with Rose… I'm done, Ginger." I shrug, slumping into my seat before I succumb to the scent of freshly lit cigarettes and grab his pack off the table. I light up and inhale deeply before I throw my head back and exhale. I watch how the smoke draws patterns in the air until my eyes meet Ginger's. His gaze is inquisitive—attentive—and his green irises burn straight through my icy exterior. He cares.
"You can't smoke in here." He repeats my words with a glorious smirk gracing his full lips. I huff and bite my bottom lip before butterflies swirl around my insides. Fuck.
"What are you going to do about it?" I wonder mockingly, throwing one leg over the other, the sash of my hotel robe dangerously loose, allowing the slit to slide up higher and higher on my thigh. Ginger inhales deeply before his eyes narrow.
"You know what happens to bad girls, Isabella." His words are joined by a menacing growl that makes my pussy clench and ache for more. He gets it. And I didn't even get it until now. Ginger is right, I need to get over it. I can't bury this shit. I have to face it.. I'm done talking about the incident. I'm ready to heal.
"Enlighten me," I challenge him.