I extend my arm in front of her and place it on the glass, preventing her from moving to the automatic doors. “You want to pretend you didn’t follow me last night because you were jealous?”
Her angry eyes dart toward my face, but she remains silent.
I inch closer to her, and my chest touches her shoulder. “You want to pretend you didn’t wake up by my side?”
Her neck moves with a rough swallow, and I lean toward her ear, towering over her. “You want to pretend you didn’t come on my cock just hours ago?”
She chokes on the air, and her head whips toward me. “You had a concussion, and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My chuckle is dark. “Sure. I also don’t know how you nearly made me come before I was ready.”
Her lips twitch.
“And I also don’t know how bummed I was in the morning when you decided to play the avoidance game.”
This gets her attention because she slowly tilts her head to look up at me. “You were?”
“I was.” I let my nose graze her ear, and that causes a slight tremor to run through her body. “I meant what I said that I wanted you to be mine. I still do.”
It just has to be on certain terms.
She bites her lower lip, and I push more. “So I’ll ask you again. Is that what you want?”
She blinks a few painfully slow times before her face hardens. “I was tired and worried about you,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction. “People do stupid things when they’re emotional.”
“Stupid things.” I repeat the words, letting them hang in the air between us. They sting more than they should, more than my ribs or the bruises on my face. “Is that what it was to you?”
Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but then she shakes her head. “I have to go back upstairs. Maeve will wonder where I am.”
“You’re running away again.” We both know no one is expecting her back.
“I’m being practical,” she snaps, her composure finally cracking. “One of us has to be.”
I watch her turn toward the elevators, and something desperate claws at my chest. I can’t let her leave like this, can’t let her disappear behind that professional mask again.
“Bea, wait.” My voice comes out as a plea.
She stops but doesn’t turn around, her shoulders rigid with tension. The lobby’s marble floors reflect the soft lighting, and I can see her face in the polished surface of the elevator doors.
“This isn’t over,” I say, my voice carrying across the open space. “Whatever’s happening between us, you can’t just wish it away. I know I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
Her reflection shows her closing her eyes briefly, like she’s gathering strength. When she opens them, she finally turns to face me.
“Yes, I can,” she says, but her voice wavers slightly. “I have to.”
The elevator arrives with another soft ding, and she steps inside without looking back. As the doors begin to close, I catch one last glimpse of her face—and for just a moment, I see past the professional mask to the woman who whispered my name in the dark.
And that woman is scared too.
36
Bea
As soon asthe elevator doors close, I slump against the wall, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. What am I doing? What are we doing?
I press the button for Maeve and Ezra’s floor. The elevator climbs while the intense conversation with Noah replays in my head on an endless loop.
Hiswords echo in my mind, both a promise and a sweet threat. And the worst part is, part of me doesn’t want it to be over, despite knowing how catastrophically stupid that is. Even though it felt better than anything else I’ve experienced in my life, and I don’t just mean the physical aspect of it, though thatwasphenomenal. But it’s also the connection I felt with him. The peace I experienced when he held my hand. The hope that blossomed deep in my core when he called me ‘mine.’
