Tame Me If You Can

Chapter 29

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Chapter 29

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Here's the agenda for tonight:

Jake's coming over.

I'm making a marvelous dinner, like the talented bad bitch that I am.

Then, I'm ending things.

That's right.

This professional psychologist has goals, and I'm done letting a man with a wonderful penis exploit me into giving them up. And for what? Because he's an insecure caveman, jealous of the concept of me being at a bar with another male.

As if I can't contain myself around the opposite gender.

How insulting.

Seriously, how insulting.

Anyway, we're having chicken pasta. My Pinterest recipe board had this delicious creation saved for years, but my unskilled and lazy ass was too scared to make it.

But I need to show some civil gratitude for the idiotic sacrifice he was willing to make today, and if my body is no longer going to be available for services, I figure he should at least have a nice meal.

So, let's put on a black dress and get started.

~

Yeah, I ended up ordering pizza.

I tried, I really did. But apparently chicken is complicated, pasta is high maintenance, and once again I'm reminded of why I avoid such time-consuming tasks.

Plus, I was craving a pepperoni and mushroom pizza with jalapeños.

I light the candles in the living room and set New Girl on Netflix, because Nick and Jess's chemistry puts me in a sassy mood. I'm going to need the power to carry through the night.

I'm certain there's actual feelings beneath this exterior, but I'm in no capacity to address them. For now, I'll just focus on his unwelcome possessiveness, poor emotional regulation, and lack of commitment to goals.

Knocking at the front door indicates his arrival, and my pulse flies through the roof. A part of me considers smoking weed, but I don't need to be reminded of my own weaknesses.

That is until I open the door and stifle a whimper.

It's unfair. So unfair. The way he looks, and the way he looks at me.

A black henley on his solid frame, hugging his shoulders and biceps. Sleeves rolled up, forearms on display with veins and virility. Olive skin golden from hours of labor outside. Hazel eyes smoldering with knee-weakening warmth.

"Are you going to invite me in or...." he asks with an edge of amusement.

I shut my mouth and move aside. My body tingles from his heat as he passes; nervous anticipation coils from his sure-footed steps on the wooden floor.

Wait a second, I'm supposed to be mad at him.

"I'm mad at you."

He turns, eyebrows raised for a second before he lowers his head. "I know..."

I know?  How am I supposed to be upset and end things if—

"Why are you being so soft?" I scowl, crossing my arms.

He looks confused. "What?"

"You're being all..." I circle him like a zoo animal. "Gentle and submissive."

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows knit further.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Do you have anything else to contribute to this conversation besides being confused?"