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SAWYER
Iam absolutely baffled by this woman. Completely out to sea, with no hope of understanding the effect she has on me.
She's insulted me. Walked away from me. Even taunted me with a depth of bitterness that makes this feel personal. She hates me for some reason, that much is obvious. And she isn't afraid to rub my face in it.
Considering all of this, the last thing I should want to do is throw her to the floor and fuck her senseless. Yet here I am, knocked sideways by the force of my attraction. She is so damn fuckable, from head to toe. Every part of her tempts me in some way; thick, shining hair begging for my hands to sink in deep before pulling her close. Pouty lips whose taste I’d love to memorize, who's firmness I'd love to test. And what my hands couldn't do to her body.
She hates me, she wants to humiliate me, and I'm still fighting off an erection. I’m not sure what this says about me, and I'm not sure I like it. I only know there's no denying it.
“I'm waiting for an answer,” I murmur. Of all places for us to do this, but then I'm not the one who tried to leave without really settling things. She seems to know me, yes, but she can't know me very well if she honestly believed I would accept her rejection without doing everything in my power to change her mind.
“You've already gotten your answer.” She lifts her head before spinning on her heel and pinning me to the spot with a glare that could melt steel. Beautiful eyes, clear and sparkling, but now they burn with resentment. Nothing has ever been more important than finding out why. What did I do? How do I make it right?
I'm not even sure I care more about the business or our personal involvement anymore. Yes, I need her, but the lines are blurred thanks to what boils down to unprofessionalism on her part and what feels like masochism on mine.
“You honestly think everybody has a price, don't you? After everything I've already said, you're still doing your best to buy my help.”
It got you to stop before you walked out the door, didn't it? Something tells me throwing that in her face would be the worst move I could make, so I bite my tongue. “I need this. What can I do to make you understand?”
“I understand very well.”
“And you hate me enough to leave me hanging, even so?”
“Even so.” She's so proud of herself, probably envisioning some grand, sweeping moment of triumph as she lifts her chin in defiance. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but there are still people who believe integrity means something.”
“Do me a favor and let me know how the company who owns your office building would feel if you tried to use integrity to pay your rent.”
“I'm doing just fine without your... generous offer.” Her lips twitch with wry humor and it should make me want to tear her to pieces for mocking me, but all I want is to tear that tailored suit from her body and get familiar with every inch of her.
“But you could be doing much better. Let's stop kidding ourselves. I'm offering you nearly half a million dollars.”
“Good for you.”
“What else is it going to take?”
“You could offer me two million, and the answer would be the same. Why don't you stop wasting your time? Your time could be better spent searching for a representative who'd be happy to handle your problem.”
“It has to be you.” I don’t know why and doubt I could pull my thoughts together if there were a gun to my head. Call it pride, call it stupidity. I will not let this woman walk away.
Her eyes dart around, taking in the expertly appointed lobby. “Then I hope you aren't too attached to any of this, because it won’t be yours for much longer.”
“What is it? Why won't you tell me what I did to deserve this?”
“Maybe it's fun watching you scramble around, trying to figure it out.” She tips her head to the side, a shrewd expression settling over her delicate features. “Then again, no. You're not trying to figure it out. You want to bulldoze your way through this and twist everything to your liking, no matter what it means for me. That's a lot closer to the truth, isn't it?”
I'm about sick to death of the way she thinks she knows me—even if she is correct. If anything, that makes it worse. “Whatever I did, I'm sure I didn't mean it.”
She lowers her brow, eyes blazing. “You meant it.”
“How would you know? There are always two sides to a story.”
“I'm sure that's what you tell yourself every time you run your mouth or conveniently forget other people have lives and dreams and goals.”
Shit. No, I'm no closer to remembering this woman, but the way her voice trembles and almost cracks with emotion tells me this is even more serious than I suspected. It's the first hint she's given so far of real feeling.
“Listen.” I hold out my hands, palms out, a gesture of surrender. “I really would like to know the full story, but this isn't the place to share it. Could you please come back up to my office where we will have a civil, adult conversation?”
“I have no desire—”
