His Curvy Mate

6. Laughable Efforts

I slapped him. I slapped my old and first crush. In front of an audience. Twice.  

What the hell is wrong with me? I thought, flabbergasted, as I watched Ethan’s eyes darkening.

Oh right! He had proclaimed I was his. He had discarded Claire like she was old news faster than you could say we’re done. And he had even had the nerve to sound jealous when Kyle said we should have just stayed home, like I had suggested to my best friend.

I got over the shock of my rash actions and went back to angry in a nanosecond.

“A- I am not yours, asshole. B- You do not tell me what to do. Understood?” I barked at him.

Do you know what he did?

Something very unexpected to say the least.

He burst into a fit of uncontrollable crazy laughter.

Yeah, my efforts to sound threatening and dangerous were laughable, it would seem.

I glared at him, angry at him for not taking me more seriously, angry at myself for liking his laughter…

“I’m serious,” I told him, while blushing profusely.

“I know you are sweetheart,” he told while eying the little bit of cleavage showing through the material of my dress hungrily.

Then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, he brought his hand up slowly to my face, and I had to resist the urge to flinch upon contact.

There were sparks. Pleasurable sparks filled every inch of skin he touched.

I instantly felt hot and bothered for him.

How can you, Belle? I admonished myself. He’s your step-sister’s boyfriend.

Well, he did say they were not an item anymore, another part of me purred.

The conflicting thoughts soon left place to nothing but pure unadulterated desire, and I had to bite back a moan.

It was only when I averted my eyes from his lust-filled ones and I caught sight of Claire that I snapped out of the trance I was in.

She was devastated. She had thick black mascara-filled tears streaming down her face, and she sniffed every so often. Very unlike her.  

Knowing I couldn’t shove Ethan away, I just slapped him anew, startling him back.

Before he could react or say anything, I approached my step-sister.

“Claire,” I called out hesitantly, and as softly as I could muster.

Her eyes snapped up to mine and what I saw in their depths made me stop in my tracks, frozen.

“I hate you, Annabelle Carmichaels, you sneaky back-stabbing bitch.”