CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
COURTNEY
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Istand in my bedroom, wearing only my silky nightie, and stare at the dead phone.
Open the door.
Do I ring him back?
I grab my silk dressing gown and pad out to the living room, staring at the front door as if it will give me the answer.
Zander is drunk.
I don’t have a door, it’s an elevator.
Still, I can tell security not to let him up.
Telling Zander to go home, instead, is the right thing to do.I start to message him but stop.I know why.Even if I don’t want to admit it to myself.
I want to see him.
I’ve wanted to see him every day since we last saw one another.
The ping of the elevator makes me jump even though I was expecting it.As the doors slide open, I swallow nervously.
Holy hell.
He’s definitely drunk, butmy goodness,he looks ruggedly handsome.His hair is ruffled, and he has a sexy five o’clock shadow.The black sweater he’s wearing is snagged on his jean belt, looking like he’s some Bookstagram man-whore, and frankly, I’m here for it.
He sports a naughty grin, and I know I’m toast.
There’s no saying no to him tonight.
What woman could?
“Fuck.”Zander steps forward with a little wobble and takes me by the hips.“Look at you.”
I dig deep for the strength I know one of us has to find.Given that I’m the sober one, it has to be me.
“You’ll hate yourself in the morning,” I warn him.
“Baby, I have a lot of regrets in life but fucking you one more time will not be one of them.”
