Someone Like You by Pax Sinclair

Author:Pax Sinclair [Sinclair, Pax]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Kettle Ink
Published: 2019-07-11T16:00:00+00:00

Still dark, it had to be well after midnight. Reluctantly, I slipped out of bed. For a few moments I watched him sleep the sleep of angels. I was so wicked, I wanted to wake him up again just to have his body on top of me and his cock bearing down on me again.

I stepped outside the room to retrieve my bag from the studio, collected my clothes from where I discarded them, and headed into the master bathroom. The blue and gray tiled space was neat except for a bath towel, toiletries and a cell sitting on the far side of the double sink. I placed my things on a chair and turned on the shower. I’d run a marathon with Austin chasing me. I hoped the hot water from a steamy shower would restore my aching body.

I dried off and put my clothes back on. I needed to leave and be in my own space to think. What we did changed everything. In some ways it made things clearer, in others more complicated.

I raked my fingers through my wet hair when a flash of light and buzzing caught my attention. I glanced at the opposite side of the double sink and saw Austin’s phone coming to life. I was curious and picked it up. I focused on the message.

“Was it worth it? Everything you did to get Molly Dixon in your bed?” It was signed G.

I sat down hard on the closed toilet seat and reread the message. No, I shook my head. That couldn’t be what this was about, was it? Who was G?

My mind began flipping through memories. My first meeting with Austin at the Waterline, he thought I was Bex. At our lunch at his house, he thought I liked sushi and beer; that was Molly’s thing. The day he spent driving me around, he talked about her like a wistful lover. At the duck pond, he said I was Molly.

He didn’t want me, he wanted her. He never once called me Emma. He probably would have loved it if I’d stayed in my Molly character while he fucked me senseless. I put the cell back on the sink counter.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumbled under my breath. I unzipped my purse and found my lipstick. I scrambled onto the sink counter, kneeling to be level with the mirror that took up most of the wall. My shade of lipstick was deep pink. In gigantic letters that took up every square inch of mirror space I scrawled in shaky, serial-killer letters, ‘I’m not Molly Dixon.’ I slipped off the counter, grabbed my purse, his cell, and yanked open the door. Austin was standing just outside in all his naked splendor. I tossed him the cell and pushed past him, running down the stairs. I found my key fob on the move and hit the button for the car to open. I slipped inside, threw the car into reverse, backed out to the street, shifted into drive, and floored it like a crazy, determined brunette.

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