Coming Back (The Sarah Kinsely Story - Book #2) Read Online Free PDF

wandering.
    Brandon walked over to me, put both of his hands around my waist and pulled me in.
    He smelled like expensive cologne and freshly ironed cotton.
    “What do you want to do?” He said as he cocked his head to one side and brought his lips just inches from my neck. He made his way up to my ear and whispered, “I don’t have any plans.”
    I grabbed his belt with both hands and held on for dear life as his soft whisper ran through my ear and down my spine.
    I looked down at the floor as he ran his hand through my hair, massaging my scalp with his fingers. It felt good.
    It all felt good.
    I felt like I was in a dream, half living it and half watching it all happen. It wasn’t so much that time had stood still as it was that time had disappeared altogether. I tried to wrestle with my sense of self-control, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered because there would be no consequences. No consequences meant that I could do what I wanted, that Brandon could do what he wanted.
    Without time we were free.
    I looked up into his eyes. He looked back into mine.
    I tried to keep focused on his face but the room was gently rocking.
    I closed my eyes.
    He kissed my neck.
    I let out a shuddered sigh, a slight moan, and I pulled his head into my neck with both hands.
    We stumbled slightly.
    “Let’s lay down.” He said.
    I laid on my back on the faux bearskin rug. It was soft and, for the moment, made the room stop moving.
    Brandon slid down on top of me. His leg slipped perfectly in between mine and he rested half of his body on me.
    What is happening?
    His hand slid under my dress. I felt it searching, wandering, until it found my bra.
    He kissed my lips.
    It tasted like wine and garlic.
    It was the slap in the face that I needed.
    “Stop.” I said, pushing him off me.
    “Don’t be silly,” he said trying to roll himself back onto me.
    “No. I said stop.”
    I pushed him off again and scrambled to stand up.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “We shouldn’t be doing this. We are both drunk.”
    “I am not drunk, are you drunk?”
    Brandon tried to reach out and hold my hand.
    “Yes. Well, I think I am. I don’t know. We just shouldn’t be doing this. Don’t you think this is a bad idea?”
    Brandon thought for a moment, then his lips formed into a deep frown.
    “I was having a nice time actually,” he said.
    I knew this game. The guilt trip didn’t work on me in high school and it sure wasn’t going to work on me then.
    “Listen Brandon, I am very grateful that you took me out for dinner — as an employee — but I don’t think that means I owe you anything.”
    He let out a laugh.
    “You honestly think that I take all my employees out for dinner?”
    He laughed again.
    “God Kinsely, you really are hilarious.”
    He walked over to the open windows and looked out, shaking his head.
    I started to cry.
    How had I let this happen? What was I supposed to do now?
    “Oh Christ, what is it?” His tone was sharp.
    “Nothing. Can you just take me home?”
    I wiped my cheek.
    “Listen,” he stepped towards me, “why don’t we just talk a—”
    “Just take me home,” I looked up at him, tears now streaming down my face, “ please. ”

Chapter 8
    I slept most of Sunday.
    By Sunday night I was feeling sick to my stomach.
    One more missed day of work and I was fired. But how could I return after what happened with Brandon?
    I tried hard to shake what little memory of that night I had left. I was so ashamed of myself.
    What was I thinking?
    I made a promise to myself, one I had made to myself many times before: I am never drinking again.
     
     
    By some magnificent act of will I forced myself out of bed that Monday morning, put on something drab and boring and made my way back to Abraams and Snider. I was blessed with a bit of luck when I tried sneaking in with the interns this time. Lizzy was too busy signing for packages, talking on her bluetooth, and trying to check the interns in for their day of free labor