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Chapter Ten
Hannah stared at Dalton, not sure if she was more aggravated by his arrogance or turned on by it. Who knew that a bossy man who went after what he wanted could be so insanely sexy?
But really, this steamroller had to know she wasn’t steamroll-able.
“Out of the party-girl grind? It's not like I can just walk away from my job like it doesn't mean anything,” she said with a shake of her head. “I mean, I know my job isn't as important as, say, being a doctor where you’re literally saving lives. But there are still people who depend on me.”
“I never spouted anything even close to that bullshit, because said bullshit never crossed my mind,” came the chiding reply. “Let's get something straight right here and now, yeah? I'm not some God-complex asshole who thinks my shit’s better than everyone else’s. Your job’s important to you, and you’re good at it. Better than good, you’re the best at what you do, and I should know, since I’m your biggest fan. You can take that to the bank.”
That sounded good, but... “Yet you want me to just up and quit the party scene?”
“Yeah, I do. From a financial standpoint you don’t need your day job, so yeah. I’m telling you straight-up I want you to quit.”
“You want that,” she said slowly, all the while trying to ignore how a part of her yearned to quit the scene where she’d wound up drugged and helpless, “even though you know it's been both my job and my passion for years?”
“What I want is for you to be safe, Hannah. That's all.”
She sighed. How the hell was she supposed to push back on his steamroller act when he was being so sweet? “I was certainly safe tonight.”
“Damn straight you were safe, because I was there protecting you from all the roving dicks that would have come at you otherwise.”
“Roving dicks coming at me?” She couldn't have stopped the burst of laughter if she’d tried. “Damn, that’s one hell of a mental image. Is that really how you saw it tonight?”
“That's how I see it always. You're mine,” he added with an arm squeeze so blatantly possessive it made her shiver. “Any roving dick is going to take one look at you, the most famous party girl in Chicago, and think you're the ultimate good-time fuck.”
Yikes. “I've been doing this job for years, Dalton. Trust me, no one’s ever called me anything like that.”
“They might not say it, but if they have a cock they're thinking it. I know I did when I first crossed paths with you.”
She hadn't realized she’d stopped breathing until her head began to swim. “What?”
He nodded, clearly unrepentant. “Think about it, beautiful. You've got the face of a goddess with a booming body and a bubbly personality, and you party your ass off night after night. Of course I thought you were a good-time fuck.”
“And... so you thought you would see for yourself how much of a good time I was?” Suddenly aware that debating the point while lying naked in bed with him wasn't exactly a winning strategy, she hopped to her feet like she worked on a spring and began hunting for her clothes. “Okay. I get it. Good to know. Hope you had a good time.”
“Hannah, stop.” Naked and apparently not giving a damn about it, Dalton pushed off the bed and caught up with her just as she shimmied into her halter dress. “I didn't know you then, okay? But I sure as hell know you now, and what I know is that your trust function got the shit kicked out of it when you were a kid, thanks to your mother and total hag of a grandmother.”
She made a sound torn between anger and bewilderment. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with why you’re so pissed off at me right now. It’s easier for you to believe the worst of me and push me away over what I thought about you before I even fucking knew you, rather than deal with how close we’re getting now.”
She scoffed, stunned and irritated that his accusation hit way too close for comfort. “That’s ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous is that deep down, you’re still that little kid thinking it’s better to abandon people first, rather than be abandoned. You’d rather walk away right now rather than deal with the fact that we just had the kind of sex that literally alters lives.”
Damn it, why wouldn’t he stop saying things that felt like the truth? “And here I thought you were an ER doc, but look at you go. Apparently you also fancy yourself quite the shrink.”
“I had to do a rotation in the psych ward, actually.”
Great. Now he thought she was crazy. “Question is, did you actually learn anything there? For instance, when men think of women not as human beings, but merely as fuck toys placed on the earth for their pleasure, what would you call that? Toxic masculinity? Extreme narcissism? Or just someone who’s a terminal-level asshole?”
“Jesus,” he muttered, looking to the ceiling. “That is not what I said, so don’t put those words in my mouth.”
“Right, right. Not a fuck toy. A good-time fuck. My mistake.” Grimly she cast about for her bag and found it sitting by the door. “Though you have to admit, it’s an easy mistake to make. They’re so similar.”
“Look, I got the wrong end of the stick when I first judged you by your looks and your job, okay? I plead guilty on that, no excuses. The reason I’m telling you about it now is because you need to wake up to the fact that every guy makes that judgment when they first meet you.”
Her fury soared as she struggled with the neck fastening of her dress. “I don’t give a damn what other men think about me, Dalton. Your opinion of me is the only one that... that...” Can cut me to the bone.
“Damn it, woman, I’m just telling you how an average man’s mind works. That’s why I’m so protective of you now—because I know what’s going through their heads. I need you to have your eyes open so you can keep yourself safe whenever I’m not with you.”
She finally fastened the halter behind her neck. Thank God. “I do keep myself safe.”
“We both know what your track record is on that.”
Oh, my GOD.
“Fuck that,” she snarled viciously, and took absurd satisfaction in the widening of his eyes. “How many times are you going to throw that in my face?”
“I’m only talking reality, and talking about reality isn’t throwing shit in your face.”
“I've been at this gig for literally years, and that was the only time, ever, that I’ve been slipped a roofie. I know what you're going to say,” she held up a hand even as he took a breath. “Even once is one time too many. I couldn’t agree more, but it happened. It happened, and it wasn't my fault, or the fault of my job. For the last frigging time, the predator is the only one to blame here. When you get that through your thick skull—and when you can look at me without the words good-time fuck traipsing through your head,” she added, slamming her shoes on, “maybe then we can talk.”
“And maybe, while you’re doing all you can to push me away to save yourself from potential hurt, you should think about how that whole issue of trust goes both ways,” he snarled back, and the real anger of it made her heart pause. “If you can’t trust me enough to let me the fuck in, then I don’t know if I can trust you enough to keep on trying.”
The words hung in the air between them like a poisonous cloud before she snagged up her bag and flew out the door, shaking with what she told herself was fury.
That, however, didn’t explain the devastated tears that began to fall.
