Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 12

                      ♥⁠╣CLAY╠⁠♥

HE HURT ME.

I know you two had a fall out but he's my best friend and he'd never hurt anyone

I was your girlfriend first before you both decided to share me!

He couldn't breathe. When the past came clawing at his insides, he'd focus on work or fucking any woman that gave him attention.

At the moment that was... difficult.

Work reminded him that it'd been approximately twelve hours since the party happened.

The party in which he lost control. The party that reminded him of his shitty past.

As for fucking women...the woman ten feet away wasn't the very definition of fuck-able.

Her hair up in a messy bun, with extremely short shorts that she pulled out of nowhere, an oversized t-shirt that swallowed her whole, Brooklyn paced the room for the hundredth time and he bit his fist trying to keep his discontent in check.

After nearly chomping down the breakfast buffet to the last slice of mango, she'd now picked a can of Pringles chewing them so hard that his ears hurt.

"Stop"

He ordered and she stopped.

That look of rebellion dominating her face, she crossed her arms on her chest and he wondered what type of shit he'd landed himself by agreeing to bring her to Seoul in the first place.

She upset him.

He lost control everytime she was near.

And worse, every second with her reminded him he was an asshole.

She was right. She got assaulted because of him. Just like his ex had gotten assaulted because of—no. He was not going to go down that road.

The past was in the past.

"What do you think you are doing?"

She rolled her eyes. Like a fucking teenager going through one of those stupid phases.

"What does it look like am doing? Is eating not part of the contract too"

She knew it was not but still she wanted him to pop a nerve with agitation.

"You always behave like this? Like a little kid in need of supervision? You want to eat, eat the whole fucking fridge but do it quietly for God's sake. I can't think with you moving around like that"

And moving around with those shorts much less. They hadn't discussed what happened last night. Partly because he was still worriedly aware that Brooklyn's hands on him had done a number on his dick.

He was a man and he hated himself for getting a hard on from such a little accident.

"What's there to think about? I thought your contract is as good as dead"

It was dead or done for that matter. He was wasting time and he knew it. Still, he was Clay Cervantes, the Clay Cervantes that had something rolled up his sleeve in case of emergencies.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

A fake smile plastered on her face, taking one Pringle and putting it in her mouth, she said with a mock,

"For it to be done? For me to be away from you? I pray for those two things every second I'm locked inside here with you and by the looks of it, the Lord does indeed hear prayers"

Full of sass and newfound courage she paced the room again and he stood up from the settee he'd been sitting at since the sun adorned the skies.

Her steps came to a halt, immediately she saw him walk towards her. It was a small room, three long strides and he was towering above her.