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“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come without telling you.”
“No, Saona. You shouldn’t have,” he bites out.
Humiliation hits me so hard I almost stumble. How many ways can a person get rejected in one night? It’s my own fault but still... Why couldn’t he just let me lick my wounds alone? Why did he come meet me? Does he need to put me in my place that badly?
“I—”
“I didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t need you springing surprises on me and then looking at me like I wronged you.” He’s not looking at me and we’re walking fast.
“I know you didn’t. This was my bad. You should go out with your friends. No hard feelings.”
He scoffs. “No hard feelings, huh? Because this is not that serious.”
Oh shit. “I…didn’t mean that but what I said is not altogether wrong. I mean, we are friends but we don’t owe each other anything. That’s why you should go on your double date.”
He stops walking abruptly. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Saona. That’s not a double date.”
It’s not what you’re thinking, Saona.Like I haven’t heard that shit before.
I may have done something inappropriate but I’ll be damned if he treats me like an idiot. “Your friend and his girlfriend invite you out with another girl who obviously likes you and is asking you to come join. That’s called a date…”
My voice trails off and I realized that I just admitted that I sat there and listened to their whole conversation. Oh my God, I need to be saved from myself.
“Saona, I wasn’t—”
I see the excuses about to come out and hold up a hand to stop them. I prefer that he’s pissed at me than he starts treating me like an idiot. Like my soon-to-be ex used to treat me.
He doesn’t try to say anything else. I get through the rest of the walk back to the hotel making plans. I’m going to go upstairs and get a ticket on the evening train back to New York after I meet with the Baltimore staff tomorrow. I’ll see if Sierra wants to go to the spa with me. That will help. I won’t mention what happened here because hopefully I can keep this embarrassment of a day to myself.
I almost forget Jax is next to me. That is, if you can almost forget the hulking six-foot-four man with wide shoulders who smells like a walking orgasm. By the time we get a few feet from the hotel, I have a new thing to be ashamed about: being so turned on I want to beg him to fuck me against the wall.
But I’m proud of myself because I turn to him with self-control, dignity, and the kind of politeness that wins my mother over. “Thank you so much for carrying my stuff. It was nice to see you and I hope you have fun tonight.”
I hold out my hand for my bags. He doesn’t even look at it, his eyes continue burning through me.
“Tell the concierge you have someone bringing your bags in. I’ll meet you up in your room.”
I force a smile. “That’s not necessary. Thank you so much. I don’t want to delay you any further.”
He repeats his instructions, lasering me with his eyes and we stand there, staring at each other until it becomes clear he won’t budge.
“Fine.” I stalk away. Let him carry all the crap upstairs. What do I care if he’s late for his date? All I know right now is that I’m going back home and I’ll do whatever I need to make that go smoothly.
I swing the door open and shove my purse on the table. I need to splash water on my face to cool down. My blood is running like lava through my veins. By the time he knocks on the door, my face is dry but far from cool.
I sigh and go open it. The lines I’ve been rehearsing for the past ten minutes flow perfect from my lips. “Thank you so much. It’s very nice of you to bring my things in—”
“Invite me in.”
The denial is on the tip of my tongue. He shouldn’t come in. I can’t let him. I’m pissed and horny and I’ve already embarrassed myself enough for one day. There’s no need to prolong the inevitable. But I move aside. Because apparently I have absolutely no willpower.
He stalks in the room and in one single, fluid move, he drops the bags to the side and snatches me by my waist. My body slams against his, ripping a gasp that doesn’t fully come out because his mouth is over mine, his tongue plunging past my lips. His kiss is hungry, like he’s starving for me or maybe he’s trying to swallow me whole. Renewed desire sparks through my bloodstream. My hands curl on the back of his shirt and I kiss him back with all the anger settling on my chest.
His hand tangles in my hair and he rips his mouth from mine. His eyes glow, the golden specks like a feral animal’s. They set off something primitive and uncontrollable in me. And I’m wet.
“I want to fuck,” he rough-whispers against my mouth. Like I’m prey he’s afraid of spooking.
I’m not spooked but my lips are dry without his and I run my tongue over them. “That’s not a good idea.”
