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“What the hell?” I was finally able to get out. “How did you even know I was—” Logic began tapping, incessant and alarming, at the edges of my psyche. “Where the hell is Jayd?”
“She is not coming.” Shiraz released a measured breath. “This is my apartment, tupulai, not hers.”
“Huh?” I darted a glance around. Well, shit. That explained some things—elements I should have pieced together, if I hadn’t walked in here skittish of my own shadow. The decidedly masculine furniture. The splay of guy-tastic video games on the end table. And the air, filled with his confident, decadent scent—even stronger now.
I needed to be pissed about this. And I was. Maybe. A little.
Why wasn’t I more pissed about this?
“She never was.” He turned back the way he’d come. Damn man, with his shadows-and-smoke moves. He infuriated me. He mesmerized me. “Her dress is fine. She sent those texts because I asked her to.”
“What?” I shuffled backward—only to realize my shoes and phone were still on the cushions halfway between us. Dammit. “And—and Jagger—”
“Helped as well.”
“Why?”
“Would you have come if I openly asked to see you?”
“Damn good point.” I managed to snag the phone. The flip-flops, lying closer to him, might just have to be collateral damage for the greater good. Translation: getting out of here without succumbing to touching him. A harder exertion by the second…
“I’m not proposing to Ambyr.”
I froze. I had to. It meant conceding some space to him, but hiding the utter elation from my face took significant priority—
Until logic stepped in.
“Okay, wait.” I sliced a hand, palm down, on the air. “Not proposing tonight, right? Because of the announcement about the baby?”
“Lucina—”
“That’s really sweet, mister.” I folded my arms—as he kicked up the speed on his re-approach. “But in the end, it changes nothing.”
“Dammit, Lucina.” He rumbled it from a place inside, a part of him matching the dark granite of his face. More colors burst in the sky, illuminating those bold angles, firing into the brilliant depths of his eyes. For a moment, I could do nothing but stare, praying his stark beauty was scorched on my memory forever—
Before forcing myself to move again.
Bolting for the door.
For freedom from the perfection of him.
For escape from the pain of him.
From the heat in my throat, the fire in my veins…and ohhh fuck, the pressure in my sex. The need, crawling through me like electrical lines hit by that damn lightning, sparking and sizzling, wild and out of control…
Then captured.
Trapped against the wall between his guy-tastic video gamer set-up and the door that would have been my freedom.
Freedom I no longer wanted—or cared about.
Yeah, just like that.
Yeah, just that perfectly.
This. I just wanted this. Being caged by his big body against my back, his arms against the wall, and his hot, heavy breaths against my neck…
Yeah, just like my best fantasies.
