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“Hey. Hey.” I capture her hand before she can storm up the stairs. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh. Now you can talk?” Fury spills from her voice and sharpens her dark eyes.
A headache brews in the back of my head.
I step back. Unbutton my crisp white shirt.
Asia’s lost three inches thanks to those heels she’s holding in her hand, but the way she stomps up the stairs, she might as well be wearing them.
I follow her. “Asia.”
“What? What do you want, Hansley?” She spins. “What can I do for you tonight?” Her voice lowers. "Would you like me to go back downstairs so you can strap me to the banister and pick up where you left off? Would you like me to take off my dress, crawl on the bed and spread my legs for you? Or would you like to take off your pants so I can—”
“Stop,” I hiss. “That’s enough.”
“You know. It’s a wonder more men don’t get married. They’re just not advertising it right.” She raises her hand in the air as she says sarcastically, “Free Booty Call. One dedicated screw is just a pillow away’.”
“What the hell? Where is all this coming from?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Svena?”
I freeze.
Dig my fingers into my palm.
“You used to date her, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t that serious.”
“You just slept with her then?”
“Twice.”
She pulls her lips in. “That’s it?”
I nod.
“Why did it feel like… there was more?” Her voice cracks. “What are you not telling me, Hansley?”
A groan works its way from the very depths of my soul and spills through my lips. I run a hand through my hair, sending wavy strands flying over my forehead. My skin itches until I want to peel it all off.
My heart’s beating on the floor. That bastard keeps jumping out and trying to fling itself at Asia’s feet.
“Please,” Asia begs.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Svena was the last woman I…” I pause. “She was the last person I was with before I met you.”
Asia’s lips tighten.
That hurt her.
Me saying it out loud.
But she’s calm. She figured out that much on her own.
I walk across the room and sit on the edge of the bed. Patting the space next to me, I invite her to sit.
She doesn’t. She keeps standing there, with her arms over her chest. With the space between us.
