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The moment I’m in the bathroom, I go straight for the sink, turning on the faucet, so I can wash my hands. The water is ice cold, just the jolt I need to get me out of this stupid jealous funk.
So I kissed him once. So what? It meant nothing. He is nothing to me, and I’m nothing to him. To get upset over some flirtatious woman, who he’s probably banged plenty of times, is pointless.
He’s the one who made the celibacy vow, not me. If he tosses it aside to have sex with that girl?
That’s on him.
Once I’ve dried my hands, I run my fingers through my hair to fluff it out. Then grab a lip balm out of my tiny purse and slick it on my lips. A couple of women exit the stalls and wash their hands beside me, giggling to themselves, their cheeks flushed and their pupils dilated. I wish I was as buzzed as they are. In fact, I need to go grab another drink from the bar myself and drown my stupid, pointless feelings in some vodka—
The door swings open and Knox Maguire himself enters the bathroom, his expression intense, his eyes sweeping the room before they land on me.
A woman walks out of the stall, stopping short when she sees him.
“This is the ladies’ room,” she says snottily.
“I need to talk to her.” He inclines his head toward me, his expression serious. “Privately.”
The woman huffs, rinses her hands off quickly and then stomps out of the bathroom.
Leaving us completely alone.
I’m still facing the sink, my gaze lingering on his in the mirror. “What are you doing?”
“You stormed off.”
“I did not.”
His smile is barely-there, but smug. The bastard. “Oh yeah, you did.”
“I had to use the bathroom.”
“Uh huh.” He takes a step closer. “Pretty sure you were jealous of Daphne.”
“Why would I be jealous of her?”
“Not sure.” He’s now directly behind me, so close I can feel him, and when he settles his hands on the edge of the sink, I’m trapped. “Considering I followedyouinto the bathroom and left Daphne out there.”
SIXTEEN
KNOX
I chased after her.
I don’t do that.
Ever.
Yet, the moment she left the table, I was possessed with an unfamiliar urge to follow her. I excused myself from Daphne—fine we hooked up my freshman year. And my sophomore year. Okay, fuck it, we also hooked up last year, but I’m not interested in her. Not at all—and went after Joanna.
And now, here I am, in the women’s bathroom at Logan’s, staring into her eyes in the mirror, my arms braced around her. Keeping her from leaving.
It’s an excuse. I just want to be close to her. Smell her fragrant hair. Feel her body heat seeping into mine. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but that little incident earlier between me and Daphne that had Jo Jo fuming and eventually running away?
Telling.
“Can you move please?” She sounds downright hostile.
I slowly shake my head, my gaze never straying from hers. “Not yet.”
