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I’ve been inspecting every part of the hotel that I could, to give myself the distraction from her that I need. The poor kitchen staff have just found out what a bad mood I’m in.
This whole week has been the biggest clusterfuck, and I can’t seem to break the cycle. Every time I turn around there is another disaster. The biggest one is the one I left upstairs, with her soft, flowing red hair spread all over the pillow where I had been lying with her all night.
I couldn’t stay in the room with her while she dressed and ate. Victoria naked? There would be no way I could ignore her like I need to.
She’d have too many questions, and every time she opens those lips that I want wrapped around my cock, with another sarcastic comment, I can’t help biting back. She is the only person I can’t manage to tame with my words. Every time, she just bites back even harder.
Fuck, stop thinking about her biting me back, leaving teeth marks on my skin like her trophy. I can’t exactly walk back into the room with a raging hard-on.
Why is it that my cock responds to her fire, and not her supple softness? That needs to stop right now.
Last night was a big mistake. Well, big isn’t even the right word. I’d say a fuckinghugemistake! One I don’t know how to fix except to push her away. And that push needs to be harder than I have ever pushed before. If she thinks I was an asshole before, then she hasn’t seen anything yet.
Standing at the door to the suite, I take a deep breath before I walk into the dragon’s lair. And that’s what it is, with Tori inside. The angrier she gets with me, the greater my pull is toward her. It’s like she pumps the sexual attraction into the air and my body just wants to quench its thirst for her. The problem being, now that I’ve had her, I know what I’m missing—perfection!
Something I know I won’t get again.
“Grow some balls and get in there. You have a plane to catch.” Swiping my card, I put my game face on.
I find her sitting at the table, sipping her cup of tea that I made sure I ordered for her with breakfast this morning. For me, being in Italy means good coffee. The British people have no idea what they are missing.
Out the corner of my eye, I see her bag sitting next to mine, ready to be taken down to the car.
She hasn’t even acknowledged me standing in the room looking at her. The silence is deafening.
“I will call the porter,” is all I say, raising the phone on the hall stand to my ear.
“Mhm,” she murmurs in acknowledgment, looking toward the windows that overlook the gardens. She brings her cup back to her mouth and slowly takes another mouthful, in no rush to stand or move from her spot.
Oh yeah, she is pissed at me.
But this reaction is not what I was expecting from her. I had been bracing myself to walk into a wall of words being sprayed at me for being so rude this morning. Or badgering me, asking what is wrong with me and what the catastrophe is back in London that we need to rush back for.
Little does she know the catastrophe is what is happening in this room. Me burning every rope that she has unknowingly wrapped around me and is pulling me toward her.
I can’t just stand here while she is ignoring me because it gives her the power, and that’s not how this works. I’m driving the narrative today!
I need a distraction. Walking away down the hallway, I do what my mum used to call the “idiot check” in my room, checking that I haven’t left anything, even though I had hardly unpacked last night before we got distracted. The idiot check was the last thing we would do when we were leaving some accommodation, but not that any of those rooms ever looked like this. Most of the time it was actually just a caravan.
As expected, there is nothing here, only the memories of my night with Victoria and a hint of that damn scent she wears. It hypnotizes my sensibility.
Hearing the porter in the suite, I know it’s time to go.
Entering the main room, I find the porter is already gone, and still Victoria is sitting there calmly drinking her tea.
“Time to leave, Victoria,” I say, using my stern voice that I usually reserve for Jocelyn. I have to learn to hate Victoria like I despise Jocelyn. It will help.
Glancing at the watch on her wrist, she looks at me for the first time since I returned. “I’ll be down when I’m ready.”
I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up and steam building in my body. She did not just dismiss me, did she?!
“Pardon?” I ask, trying not to react the way she wants me to.
“Sorry, are you a little deaf this morning? I said, I’ll be down when I’m ready.” She’s a little huffier this time.
“You are ready now!” I snap, holding the door open and glaring at her, letting her know I’m not taking her crap.
“Oh, another order I must obey. Hmm, well, according to my watch, I have ten minutes left from the time frame given in the last order. So, I will be down in the foyer at eight twenty-nine am on the dot and not a minute earlier.” Placing her cup on the saucer, she stands and walks down the hall into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
