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“Leave a note with my secretary. We’ll have to pencil you in.” I push the door against his foot, but the fucker won’t budge.
“Open the door before I fucking split it in half,” he grumbles through his clenched teeth.
My eyes narrow on his and we glare at one another. This feels like an epic faceoff. A battle he’s not prepared for. I don't think he realizes this is about to be another loss he can add to his list.
“Fine,” I say, swinging the door open wide. “But be warned, this may result in the loss of a career.”
“Yours?” he asks, cocking a brow, an arrogance to his tone.
“No,” I smile sweetly, backing up. “Yours. When I kick in your other knee for breaking into my hotel room.”
He walks into the room with his crutch beneath his arm, shutting the door behind him, his gaze never breaking contact with mine. It’s direct. Too direct.
“It's unfortunate that the room is still under my name then, isn't it?” he taunts, a crease forming near his mouth.
I hate him.I scowl, and the slightest smirk tugs at his lips.
He stalks towards me as I walk backwards, heading me back towards the room I came from. Why is he walking me towards the bedroom?
I eye him suspiciously as he makes himself comfortable, walking directly through my hotel room and into the master. His eyes scour the space as if he's looking for something. He takes in everything, peering from my bag, now sitting in the closet, to some of my clothes balled up on the floor.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, feeling a sudden lack of privacy. “Honestly, Lake, what are you doing here?”
“You're distracted,” he declares, looking around until his eyes fall upon my book on the disheveled mess of down comforters and sheets. “Your focus isn't where it should be.”
I scoff at the ridiculousness. “For being so incredibly successful, you have got to be one of the dumbest people I've ever met.”
He ignores my comment, tossing his crutch on the floor, and plops his ass on the edge of the bed. He goes to reach for the book, but I dive to grab it from him. I'm obviously not as fast as the elite athlete, so I lay on my stomach in a heap of embarrassment as he opens the book to the scene I'm reading.
“Give that back!” I yell.
I reach around him from behind, trying to snatch it from his grip. But I forget, this man literally gets paid to hang onto objects from defenders. He easily brushes off my attempts and begins reading.
“You'll never touch me again, Cagen! Not until you admit to me how badly you need me!” he reads loudly.
“Give me that!” I scream, pushing into him until he falls over onto an elbow.
He holds the book with one large hand, his arm extended as the other palms the top of my head, holding me back like a weak toddler. My hair splays across my forehead as I try my best to reach the book. His wingspan is just too long.
“I never needed you! Cagen replies. It was only that hot, tight little spot between your legs I needed!” Lake continues, then laughs.
I push back off of Lake, realizing I'm too weak to get this book away from him. I sit on my heels, diagonal to him, as he continues to torment and embarrass me.
Why he feels entitled to even be in here, teasing me like a fifth-grade boy, is beyond me.
“This has to be a joke.” He shakes his head. “How do women actually fall for this shit?”
I snatch the book out of his hands, but only because he actually let me this time. He sits on the end of the bed, his bad leg hanging off the side while the other lies stretched out across the king-size mattress. Somehow, he looks even bigger like this. Sexier. His elbow casually props his head in his hand, and his forehead wrinkles. A cocky grin lay across his perfectly sculpted face, waiting for me to answer him.
Lake is lying on my bed.
Breathe, Dylan.
Focus on anger.
I decide to embrace the embarrassment and return the favor, making this as awkward as possible for him. I lick my lips, tossing my hair over my shoulders, and allow the strap of my tank top to slip slightly down my shoulder.
His eyes are immediately drawn to it.
