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We might not have fucked last night, but Tanner Sharpe certainly fucked me up this morning.
Chapter 16
Tanner
She’s pissed at me. I can tell from the obvious silent treatment and frequent death stares I’ve been receiving.
We walk in silence towards the curb, and I reach for the small of her back, hoping to dissolve some of the tension.
But she speeds up and avoids my touch. I can feel the aggravation boiling inside her. All I can do is smile, feeling so damn proud myself.
I admit, I love watching her in her element, almost as much as I love challenging her while she’s in it… and on the spot.
It has always been a fucking turn on for me.
She’s impressive, and it’s hot as hell. CEO Elsa—the no-holds-barred, bad-ass, alpha female is my definition of erotic.
Okay, so I also love drunk Elsa, but who says I can’t like both?
Obviously, she knows how to keep me on my toes, and it makes for a fucking fun ride.
My body instinctively reacts to her, watching her in every situation I put her through today. She had no idea about her modeling, or our collaborative bridal line.
In all honesty, I almost didn’t know it would happen myself. I made it up on the spot. I wanted to see her writhe as I burrowed myself under her skin.
That’s yet another scene I’ll be putting in my highlight reel.
Standing next to her, with all eyes on us—for a much better reason than last time—I found it difficult, really difficult, to distract myself.
But you can’t blame me. I’m a man who has needs and gets turned on by what he likes.
She hails a
cab and opens the door, turning to look at me before she slides in the backseat. Her icy blue eyes pierce into me, and I’m left feeling…dissatisfied. I will not let her walk away from me after a look like that.
She may be pissed at me, but what else is new? She will not run away from me without saying anything.; especially now that she’ll be my fucking wife and business partner.
I hate that I even fucking care.
If this had happened a week ago, I would’ve left without a second thought.
I would’ve wanted her to be pissed, and I would’ve dined while she was seething with hatred. But now, I’m fucking running after her, like a dog with his tail between his legs.
I grab a cab and follow behind hers.
Fuck. I can’t let this happen again. I look as the outside world flashes by, and I remind myself how bad it was the last time. Because it was real then.
So, this can’t become real now.
But my reality is slipping from me, and I can feel the fake blurring into the real. My feelings for her becoming harder to set aside.
I clench my fist in frustration and my knuckles turn white. This can’t happen.
This is a game and nothing else, I chant.
I suppress the build-up of whatever the fuck this is and force myself to ignore it.
My cab pulls up to the DLA headquarters, and I see her slam the car door and storm off towards the entrance.
