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“What are you insinuating? That I’m not attractive enough to get laid?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’d sleep with you right here and now. All you have to do is ask.”
“Pass,” I snarl, but it’s all for show. I have to physically lock my knees to keep my legs from trembling.
“One day,” he promises.
“No day,” I fire back.
“We shall see.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Or we won’t.”
“Five.” I feel his hand close down around my wrist.
“Three hundred.” I straighten my spine.
“Three hundred?” He laughs, the action causing his shoulders to shake. “Not likely, darling. As you said earlier, you’re notthatkind of girl.”
“Not me, you ass. You.”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“If you tell me I’m even remotely close, I might vomit right here and now.”
“Then I won’t tell you.” He smirks. “Five,” he repeats.
“I’m not telling you.”
“Six?”
“I said I’m not telling you.” I pull my arm away.
“No, I’m going in the wrong direction. Four.” Something on my face must give me away because a triumphant smile spreads across his handsome face. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I am not talking about this with you.” I take a step back, my foot catching on the leg of my stool as I do. I haven’t even processed that I’m falling before Treyton catches me by the arm and tugs me against his chest, saving me from toppling over.
The next thing I know, I’m staring up into those magnificent blue eyes and I feel absolutely paralyzed. In fear. In excitement. I can’t say. My body celebrates. My mind reels.
I should step back. Thank him for his assistance and put some much needed distance between us. But I can’t seem to get myself to move. Hell, at this point, I’m not even sure if I’m breathing.
Because no matter how much I tell myself I’m immune to Treyton’s charms, that I’m different, the more time I spend with him, the less sure I am. Minute by minute I feel him wearing me down.
I briefly wonder if this was how my mom felt when Bronson started showing her attention. Did she feel incapable of turning him away?
We’re locked in limbo. Me too stubborn to make a move, him unsure of how I’ll react if he does. It’s like a silent game of tug of war, each of us wondering who’s going to plummet into the mud first.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I jump at the sound, pushing out of Treyton’s arms so fast you’d think he’d burst into flames.
“Any chance that’s Micah?” I spin toward the door.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Could be.” His voice is tight when he answers.
I quickly cross the small space, leaning close to the door to glance out of the peephole. The only thing I see is a large, black, floppy hat.
