radicalducati 2 Hey Beautiful
2 Hey Beautiful
Sneak peak:
I leaned back against the bar, my fingers aching to reach out to him as his face drew closer to mine, his eyes ablaze with lust, sending electric currents down my spine. My nipples tightened against the fabric of my dress as I watched him, acutely aware of the dampness pooling between my thighs.
I was so fucking wet...
"You mentioned how much you enjoy his touch..." His body pressed against mine, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my short dress, toying with the elastic of my panties. "Tell me honestly now, whose touch truly sets this body of yours on fire? His or mine?"
God....
My breath caught in my throat. "It's irrelevant," I countered, my gaze defiant. "You're my past, he's my present and future."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his emerald eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Do you really think I'll stand by and watch that happen, sweetheart?" His voice dripped with determination. "I'd fucking tear down this whole world to have you back with me. So what if he's just a boy? I'll fucking make sure he's out of my way in a matter of hours."
Did he just...did he just really said that?
"You will do no such—" Before I could finish my sentence, his hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my words in a way that left me bewildered. Then, his hand slid beneath the fabric of my panties, making contact with my bare pussy. My eyes widened, my body jerking at the sudden sensation, but before I could fully comprehend what was happening, he delivered an even more shocking blow.
He thrust his fingers into me. Deep.
Oh no...
***
I believed I'd finally shaken him loose.
Yet here he stood, relentless in his pursuit, determined to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his—Me. And here I was, torn between the urge to resist and the undeniable pull he had over me. How could I turn away when his presence alone set me ablaze, wet and aching? When every fiber of my being ached for his touch? When his very gaze made me want to tell him to rip my clothes off and fuck me like he owned me?
Was it not twisted to crave something from the one who left no scopes in causing me pain?
I knew I had to put an end to it. But how? Could another man provide the key to breaking this cycle?
Maybe, yes….
Evelyn
Sixteen days had come and gone. Well, more precisely, sixteen days, eight hours, and forty-five minutes—I'd always been weak with numbers, but now I was sharp—pretty sharp. Thanks to Jacob, who might have messed up most aspects of my life, but inadvertently helped me strengthen my weakest point—math.
Did I owe him a thank you? Hell, no.
He'd shattered the most resilient part of my being—trust. Now, I knew better than to dole it out like candy on Halloween. There was a hundred percent chance it would get fucking trampled, just like that Italian bastard had done. He fucking ruined me.
God! I might never be able to fucking trust anyone!
With a groan, I rolled out of bed, my feet sliding into cozy slippers. I silenced the godforsaken alarm and stood up, stealing a glance at the mirror. The reduction in my dark circles was a welcome sign—I was making progress, and moving on. So were my dark circles, apparently.
Could I finally consider I was getting over him? Maybe, yeah.
My phone chimed, breaking the silence of the morning. Grabbing it from the nightstand, I unlocked the screen to find the familiar ID glowing—Cameron. Cameron Blake.
My newfound distraction.
I tapped into our conversation, and his text lit up the screen
“Awake, beautiful?”
“Just stirring, Charmer,” I replied.
“Just have to be enough of a charmer to charm you.”
“Well, if you hadn’t charmed me, we wouldn’t be talking,” I found myself smiling this time.
“I am flattered! Anyways, don’t be late—I will be waiting for you at the cafe.”
“I am never late.”
“Funny! That’s why you made me wait ten days.”
“That was to test you.”
“So did I pass the test?”
“Yup—That’s why we are meeting today. Now bye—I gotta go and get ready.”
I left my phone resting on the desk this time and strolled into the bathroom. The warm water cascaded down in a proper shower—I shaved, shampooed, and cleansed every inch of my body, ensuring that when I stepped out, I exuded the sweet scent of vanilla—perfect!
Today's plan? Uncertain. Certainly not planning to end up in bed with him, but they say first impressions matter, don't they? So, I put effort into presenting myself as anything but a woman trying to mend her shattered heart after loving a man who treated it like dirt, crushed it underfoot, and laughed in my face. There was no need to let Cameron glimpse into that past or let him know the scars it left.
Speaking of Cameron, we'd been conversing for a mere twelve days, all in my desperate attempt to evict Jacob from my mind—a futile effort, I must admit. Nevertheless, I persisted. I refused to become that stereotypical heartbroken woman who spends years weeping over a sick bastard. I wanted to move forward, and Cameron stumbling upon my social media after all these years, reaching out to me, felt like a sign. He remembered me from high school, where he saw me as the most beautiful girl in class—a perception I certainly didn't share, but perhaps in his eyes, I was. He was the nerdy, shy kid back then, often bullied for his acne-ridden face, yet now, here we were, connected by some twist of fate.
I pondered how he looked now—still a nerd?
His words didn't sound like he was one. He'd developed quite the flirting skills, which I admired. So, what about his face? It remained a mystery. His social media was sparse on photos, with only a few decent side profiles, but I'd stumbled upon some abs pictures…and they were, well, you know—enough to make a girl swoon, but still not enough to make me forget how Jacob Adriano looked in a plain shirt and slacks.
Damn it! Why was I even thinking about him?
Because you still love me—the bitch in my head spoke.
I groaned, spritzed on some body mist, and slipped into a red short dress, pairing it with beautiful red high heels. Grabbing a small beige bag, I quickly applied makeup, and styled my hair, striving to look my best. As I surveyed myself in the mirror, I felt satisfied—this was the best I'd looked in days. After the breakup, I'd been burying myself in food and sleep, a futile attempt to escape thoughts of him. It helped me forget during the day but did nothing to spare me from the dreams where I found myself tucked in his arms and honestly those were actually the best parts of these days I’d spent without him.
I missed his arms around me. His scent. His breath against mine. His lips on mine. I missed him—every part of him. As mine. When he was mine.
My gaze flickered to the phone—another missed call from him. He'd been calling and texting incessantly, and I'd been avoiding him like the plague. I didn't want to talk to him, no matter how much I missed him. I didn't even want to see his damn face after what he did—he didn't deserve me.
"Can we please talk?"—His text flashed on the screen, sent fifteen minutes ago. I'd made the right choice by muting him, but I still couldn't help but check his messages every few hours. It became a habit.
A knock on the door shattered my thoughts.
"Come in."
Clara entered, her eyes widening in surprise at my appearance. "Wow! You look stunning, Evie," she approached me, awestruck. "Everyone's going to be floored seeing you like this."
"Don't steal my spotlight now, only I can compliment that way," I chuckled, adjusting my dress.
"Oh, come on, you really do look stunning," she chuckled back, nudging my arm with a playful smile, “Tell me, who’s the lucky guy?” she nudged my arm with a sheepish smile.
"It's just someone from school, same grade. Apparently, he's had a crush on me for a while. So, I thought, why not make his evening?" I chuckled, "After all, my days are mostly spent dwelling on a jerk who didn't give a fuck about me despite claiming to love me."
"Forget about him," Clara urged, trying to lift my spirits, "Today's about your date—just enjoy it and forget everything else."
"You're right," I said, distracted by the sound of my phone chiming. It was a text from Cameron.
"Well, looks like you're running late."
Fuck!
"Shit, he's already there," I grabbed my bag and dad's credit card from the drawer before giving Clara a quick hug. "I gotta go. Bye."
Before she could say anything else, I rushed downstairs and bolted out of the building.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, Evelyn?" Dad's voice rang out from the garden as I slid into the car, starting the engine.
I rolled down the window and yelled back, "On a date."
And before he could protest or come any closer, I sped off, nearly running the red light, finally reaching the café using a shortcut.
I quickly fixed my hair in the rearview mirror before stepping out of the car and into the café. It was filled with unfamiliar faces engrossed in conversations. Suddenly, I felt someone standing behind me, and before I could turn around, he spoke up, his voice close to my ear.
"Hey, beautiful."
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the sound of his deep voice, and I clutched my bag tighter, slowly turning to face him.
And damn me...
It turned out I was wrong to think there could never be anyone as good-looking as Jacob Adriano, because as Cameron Blake stood before me, it became clear—Jacob wasn't the only man who could make me feel nervous.
"Oh, hi..."
Chapter 2 One Chance
Jacob
I leaned against the wall, watching that bastard practice shooting with an apple perched on my head like some kind of twisted gangster game. But what could I say? I needed his support to get to his daughter, and if I didn't play along, he wouldn't let me near her.
Fuck my luck!
He was furious. Completely and utterly furious, and I couldn't blame him. Any father would feel the same—I messed up. Big time. Not just once, but in multiple ways. And in the midst of it all, I ended up fucking hurting her, which I should've avoided at all costs.
Bang.
The shot landed perfectly in the middle of the apple, and I clenched my fists at my sides. It wasn't that I was afraid of the bullets—I knew these bullets were harmless since it was just a balloon shooting gun. What angered me was that Samuel's tantrums were wasting a lot of my time.
I needed to see her.
It had been sixteen whole days, and I hadn't even caught a glimpse of her. I was dying inside. To hold her in my arms. To feel her warmth. To taste her lips.
God! I fucking missed her so damn much.
"Change it," Samuel instructed his so-called helping hand and suppressing a chuckle the guy placed another apple on my head. This was the seventh one.
At this rate, the bullet could hit my face any time. He wasn't too skilled with shooting; his aim had always been shaky.
"How's Evelyn?" I found myself asking as he loaded the gun.
"She's doing great, actually. You'd be glad to know she's on a date, having the time of her life. The guy, unlike you, isn't an oldie. He's handsome, I guess, and definitely not a jerk."
She's on a date?
Damn it! This is spiraling out of control.
I bit the inside of my cheek, seething—I couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone else. I'd fucking kill that guy.
"Why did you—" Before I could finish my question, he fired, and once again, the apple exploded, bits of it showering down on my shoulders, the juice messing up my hair—I'd have to take another shower now.
I wished I could kill this piece of shit right now. But there were two reasons why I couldn't—first, he was my best friend. Second: He was my love's father.
"Why did I let her go?" He chuckled dryly, aiming at the apple as his lackey set it on my head, "Surely I wouldn't want my princess to be waiting for a thick-skulled bastard like you."
Bang.
I cringed as bits of the apple landed on my nose, quickly wiping it off along with the juice on my forehead.
Man, this is disgusting!
"Look, I know I screwed up, but I'm here to fix everything," I attempted to speak, but was interrupted by the guy placing yet another apple on my head. I shot him a glare, and he suppressed a snicker before backing off. "Let's just talk, alright?"
"Stand right there, you asshole. If you dare to move an inch, I will shoot you in your fucking head," Samuel hissed, firing once again, the bullet grazing so close to the apple that I almost felt it.
Samuel was totally asking for a punch.
Forget the best friend part. If he weren't Evelyn's father, I'd shot him up in his fucking asshole.
"I'm not here to play your fucking stupid games," I spat, irritated. "I'm here to fix everything."
"You shouldn't have hurt my princess in the first place, you asshole!" He barked, clearly enraged. "I never laid a finger on her in my entire life, and you fucking piece of shit broke her heart. Do you even have any idea how much you hurt her? I trusted you with her—yet you fucking shattered her. I would have killed you if you weren't my friend!"
Bang.
His anger was justified. He had every right to yell at me as much as he wanted, but I was desperate—I wanted to see Evelyn. I did everything I fucking could; wrapped up things with my business, attended court hearings, made sure Tyler was in jail, and put everything back in place in these sixteen days. And the moment I was done, I was here in America to get my baby back. These sixteen days had already felt like forever.
But now it seemed I had another task—to get Samuel's help first to reach her.
"Look, I know I screwed up—"
Bang.
"Yes, you fucking screwed up, and on top of that, you let my princess suffer alone for these days—you came late!"
Bang.
"Because I was fixing stuff she wanted to fix. She got that video clip and everything for me. She went through all of that for me—if I hadn't fucking done it right, then all of it would have been in vain. I couldn't let her struggle go to waste—she would have hated me for that," I spat. "I know I made a terrible mistake, but I'm here to fix her. I'll do anything, beg her, grovel at her feet, do whatever she asks. Just fucking help me!"
"You're a fucking idiot for doing that to her, you know that? How could you fucking doubt her?"
"I wasn't doubting her. I was beyond pissed after finding her at that bastard's house, and you know what my anger does to me—it makes me someone else. And I regret every fucking word I said—I want to be a better person, and Evelyn made me one. I can't live without her, Samuel," I sighed. "Please, give me one chance. I'll do anything to make it better."
"Can you fix her broken heart, you asshole?" He shouted, his voice as loud as before.
"I don't know, but I'm willing to try for as long as it takes. I'll do anything—I love her. More than my life. I can't...can't even think of living without her. She's everything to me. My life starts with her and ends with her—you don't even know what she means to me," My words trembled. "Please, I know the mistake I made, and I'm ready to bear any consequences for it, but just give me this chance. I swear on my dead mother—I won't screw it up this time. I won't hurt her ever again."
Samuel emitted a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Place another apple on his head," he commanded the helper, who obliged, making me sigh in annoyance as he shot it.
And the next second, he spoke up, "Fine, you got it," he let out, sounding not so happy with his decision. "You can come, stay at my house, try to fix everything you fucked up. But if you dare to hurt her again—"
Before he could finish his sentence, I found myself rushing towards him and pulling him into a hug. "Thanks, man!" I let out, finally relaxed. "Thank you so fucking much."
"Fine, fine," he feigned annoyance as he pulled away. "Now get lost."
"I'm staying at your house, remember?" I chuckled. "Treat your guest nicely."
"Guest? My arse. The moment you start becoming a pain in the arse, I'll fucking kick you out. And if you hurt my Evelyn again...."
"I won't hurt her, Samuel. I've learned my lesson—trust me, if there's anything I want, it's to kiss away her tears, have her in my arms, and never let her go again."