I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) by S.R. Grey Read Free Book Online

place. It’s the closest thing to home that I’ve got.
    That’s why I’d be crazy to mess things up this early in my return.
    So why did I do something so stupid last night?
    I don’t have an answer to my silent question as I close in on the church. But guilt—the relentless bitch—punches me in the gut and forces me to delve deeper.
    Why couldn’t I resist temptation? Why was I weak?
    But it’s like the fucking die was cast the minute Missy leaned over the edge of the bar. An image fills my mind, one of her low-cut red top. It left little to the imagination. So I took a chance. But nobody warned me that the die was loaded. I should have suspected. I should have turned away. Hell, I should have paid my tab, gotten up, and left. But I did none of those things.
    Instead, I stayed.
    I blame my poor decision a little on being caught off guard. Last night Missy looked vastly different from how she looks in church. Her dishwater blonde hair, usually up in one of those fancy twist things, hung all loose and tumbling down her back. In addition to the cleavage-bearing top that started it all, Missy had on a very short skirt, showing off her tall, thin legs. And she was wearing a lot of makeup. Missy is the same age as me—twenty-four—but with all the heavy, dark shit she’d caked around her eyes she looked a lot older. Not that it was bad necessarily. She looked good, I guess, different.
    I have to admit her sultry appearance piqued my interest, in a purely lust-filled way. Still, I didn’t want to start something up with Missy, and I knew that’s what she was looking for. We’d never messed around in the past, even though she was the kind of girl—easy—I often went for back in the day.
    But the last thing I need is to get sucked back into that lifestyle, which is why sticking around last night turned out to be such a huge mistake.
    But it started out innocently enough—
    No wait, who am I kidding? It started out dirty and it got downright filthy. Not immediately, though.
    After Missy was done flaunting her cleavage in my face, I nodded a curt hello and took a bite of my burger. Maybe she’ll catch the hint and leave me alone , I remember thinking. Of course, that didn’t happen.
    Missy sat down on the bar stool beside me, adjusted her skirt, and popped open her purse. She pulled out some makeup thing and proceeded to slowly apply another coat of the glittery shit that was already pretty much plastered on her lips.
    “Mmm,” she hummed, smacking her sparkling lips together. “I was hoping I’d run into someone interesting tonight. It’s good to see you somewhere other than church, Chase. So, how are you adjusting to, uh, life after…” She trailed off, leaving her face in a frown.
    “Prison?” I snapped, finishing what she obviously couldn’t say. “It’s okay to say prison, Missy. I won’t get mad and bite.”
    I guess that was kind of a lie, since I’d done just that. And Missy made sure I knew it.
    With an exaggerated sniffle and a pout, she muttered, “Jeez, I was just trying to be polite about it. I was hoping I’d think of a nice word for prison.”
    I almost choked on my beer. “Don’t bother,” I shot back. “There’s nothing nice about prison.”
    So I was being kind of a dick, but I just wanted Missy to leave. No such luck. The head of the bake committee’s indignation was matched only by her blatant attempt to draw my attention back to her huge tits. It pretty much worked too. But the more I saw of those enormous things the more convinced I became they were fake. No way could someone so skinny have tits that big.
    Missy crossed her arms across her chest, not to hide, but to emphasize. She leaned forward and feigned a pout. “I think you at least owe me a drink for being so harsh, Chase Gartner.”
    Harsh? Oh, please.
    But lest I sound harsh , I muttered a soft and tender “sure,” while I signaled the bartender to bring another beer for me and one of whatever frothy-shit drink