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“What did I ever do to you that you gotta be so mean to me all the time?” she asked.
He swallowed hard and dropped his attention back to her boots. That’s what he hadn’t wanted to put a name to. She looked hurt—sounded hurt. As if the th
ings he’d said to her over the years had mattered to her. But she always got so defensive, and in his mind, her fierce anger only confirmed the guilt of her profession and justified each accusation and insult he’d uttered.
But what if he’d just been hurting her all this time? Every thing he’d said, like a slice with a knife he couldn’t take back.
Guilt swirled with shame as he pulled off her unlaced boot and moved to the other.
“Loyal.”
The plea in her voice tripped his pulse and drew his head up like a magnet.
“Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you, Roxanna.” The denial was self-defensive and automatic, and yet with his next breath, he realized it was true. He didn’t hate her, he hated what his mind said she represented.
He pulled off her other boot and set it next to the first, then avoided her gaze as he rose and dragged the covers back. “Come on. Get in bed.”
“Kiss me.”
He jerked his gaze to hers, his fingers clenching on the comforter. “What?”
“Kiss me.” She reached up to grab a handful of his shirt. “Just once.”
His body screamed yes, but somehow he managed to shake his head. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking you to kiss me. Come on, it won’t kill you.”
No, but her begging might.
“You’d hate yourself in the morning,” he predicted as he resisted her pull on his shirt. “You’d hate me in the morning.”
“I hate you now.”
The words stung more than he ever would’ve thought possible, and yet something in her eyes weakened his resistance.
“Help me sleep you off, Loyal. Please.”
Geezus fuck. He’d never heard the word please used so effectively before in his life. When she arched her eyebrows and tucked the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth as those beautiful brown eyes beseeched him, he was toast.
He sidestepped and leaned down to cover her mouth with his in one smooth motion. Her lips were soft, and a swipe of his tongue gave him a citrusy taste of wine and Roxanna.
It was so wrong, but he wanted more. From one heartbeat to the next, he needed more.
Her lips parted with a soft sigh, and he tilted his head to dip his tongue inside her mouth. She brought her free hand up to the back of his head, spearing her fingers into his hair as her other hand held tight to his shirt. His heart thudded hard as desire surged through him, urging him to stroke deep and explore all she offered.
As her tongue tangled with his, she leaned back, pulling him with her. He caught himself from falling on top of her with his hands braced beside her shoulders. The urge to climb up onto the bed and cover her body with his almost overrode the little voice in his head telling him to stop.
She’s too drunk. She really will hate me in the morning—and herself.
Loyal reluctantly broke the kiss and eased back. Roxanna made a sound of protest, her hand still fisted in his shirt.
“We can’t,” he said as he tried to pry her fingers from the material.
“Why not?” she asked with a frown. “Cuz you don’t like me?”
“You don’t like me,” he countered. “And you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
