Then she lifts a shaking hand, palm flat like a warning. “You don’t get to do that, Ben.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it.”
Her eyes flash. “I hate you.”
I let out a low, breathless laugh. “Liar.”
Her hand balls into a fist. “You are the worst mistake I ever made.”
That? That fucking stings.
I open my mouth to fire back, but she’s already yanking open the door.
“I mean it,” she says, voice hoarse. “Don’t come near me again.”
The door slams. The sound echoes through the suite, rattling through my chest.
I stand there, breathing hard, fingers curled into fists.
The taste of her is still on my lips. The heat of her body still lingers against mine, seared into my skin like a brand I can’t scrub off.
I knew I shouldn’t have done it, I knew the second mymouth crashed against hers that I was making a mistake.
But I couldn’t stop.
I don’t stop when it comes to Lila. That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem.
Now she’s gone, her final words slamming into my chest.
Don’t come near me again.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply, and push away from the door. The room feels too big, too empty. I stalk toward the minibar, yanking open the cabinet and grabbing the first bottle I see. Vodka.
Perfect.
I pour a measure, no ice, no thought, I knock it back in one go. The burn barely registers. I pour another.
Fine. Screw it.
If this is what she wants—distance, silence, goodbye, then so be it.
I could have anyone. Hell, I could walk downstairs right now and find someone willing to warm my bed before the night’s out. No names. No complications. Just skin and distraction.
I don’t need her.
I don’t—
The lie crumbles halfway through the second swallow.
Because even as I try to picture it, anyone else, her face cuts through. Her voice, sharp and bright. The fire in her eyes. The way her hands trembled against my chest when I kissed her, not just from anger, but from want.
Suddenly it’s laughable. This pretence. This idea that someone else could ever come close.
Because it’s always been her.
I fucked up.
I’d spent years imagining what it would be like to see her again. What I’d say. How I’d play it. Cool, controlled, untouchable because that’s who I am now. The version of me that doesn’t break, doesn’t chase, doesn’t lose.
