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“Oh, shut up.”
She was saved by the arrival of the elevator. She knotted her fingers in the sleeve of his shirt and nearly dragged him inside. He stumbled after her, a surprised look in his eyes. But she also saw hunger. For her. “That eager to get me upstairs?”
“Maybe,” she muttered. “Keep laughing and I might change my mind.”
“Brianna.” Suddenly he was close, too close. He backed her against the wall. Hadn’t they been in this situation once before? His hands fell to grip her hips. “Don’t be embarrassed. I like how frank you are.”
“I know.” She pressed against him and ran her nails over his chest. “If you want me to be frank, I’ll be frank. I want you.”
The heat igniting in his gaze almost set her aflame. “I want you, too. But—”
“No buts.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down, rising up on her toes to meet him. “Just us.”
“Brianna,” he breathed, and kissed her.
His lips captured her breath and gave it back to her in rushed pants. She trembled and melded her body to his. She needed to feel more of him. All of him. He locked her to him with a fierce hold. When his tongue slipped between her lips, sh
e met it eagerly. He tasted like scotch and strawberries and Pad Thai. With each stroke of his tongue, with each touch of his lips, she melted more. Needed more.
She kneaded at the hard muscles of his chest, bunching up handfuls of his shirt. Her forearm brushed against his abdomen, and his stomach flexed into delicious ripples that she ached to explore. He groaned, ripped his mouth from hers, and stepped back.
For a moment she thought the elevator had stopped on his floor, but it was still moving, the yellow dot of light pinging through the numbers just over his head. She blinked at him. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, his cheeks flushed. His eyes met hers, dark with uncertainty, closed and careful and utterly shuttered.
Her heart rolled in a seasick sway that left her queasy. “What? What is it?”
“This…” His voice was stilted and curt. “This isn’t working for me anymore. We need to talk inside my room.”
The chill in each word cut into her like slivers of ice. This was it. The moment she’d been fearing. He was going to break it off with her and go back to California. “Are you…are we…?”
She broke off. Just a few hours ago, he’d told her he was happy with her. Had made it seem like he was interested in staying with her in Vegas. Now he was pushing her away? Why?
What had changed so suddenly?
“No. But we need to talk about our future,” he said, and her stomach dropped out. “I don’t want to just continue dating you.”
Oh my God. They were breaking up.
“Why?” she asked, her voice cracking. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t cry. Damn it, she liked him too much not to cry, but she wouldn’t in front of him. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tight. Trying to hold her heartache in. “Never mind. Don’t answer. You’re not interested anymore. You want to leave. I get it. You got the contract signed and now you’re ready to return to your old life. Just take me home.”
“Wait. I started this wrong.” He took a deep breath and looked down at her with wide eyes. “Brianna, it’s not that I don’t want you. It’s that I—”
“It doesn’t matter what your reasons are. I don’t need to hear them.” She smoothed her clothing and lifted her chin. “It’s fine.”
“Jesus, will you let me fucking talk?” he snarled. The elevator door opened behind him, but he stayed where he was, glaring at her with something like desperation.
That was the last straw. He was going to get ugly with her after he’d dropped this on her out of nowhere? When she was trying to remain calm and collected? She clamped her lips together until they stilled their trembling.
“You don’t need to. I’ve been avoiding this conversation, but it’s about time it came up. We’re done.” She stepped closer—and shoved him back, out of the elevator. His face blanked with shock and…was that hurt? No. She wouldn’t think about that. He didn’t get to be hurt right now. While he stumbled, struggling to regain his balance, she stabbed the button for the lobby. “Good-bye, Thomas.”
“Brianna, wait—!”
The elevator door closed, almost on his reaching fingers.
Brianna stood there watching the numbers count down. Numb. Frozen. God, she’d been so stupid. So obliviously happy. She felt the knot welling in her throat, her eyes burning, but the hot, painful tension inside her wouldn’t break into tears. She wondered distantly if she was in shock.
That hadn’t just happened.
She’d thought he’d been perfect. Maybe that was the problem. He was too perfect. He said all the right things, did everything perfectly, was too handsome, too witty, too intelligent. Too good. She’d been lucky enough to find a good man once, who loved her until the day he died. She hadn’t thought love had been possible back then, but Michael had showed her it existed. But not with Thomas.
