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“You didn’t even want it to happen,” she tells me.
Is that really what she thinks? Did she not listen to a damn word I said that night?
“If I didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have happened,” I reply.
“We both know you’re not known for your willpower.” She snorts. “Willpower. How ironic.”
“Really? You’re going to be another person who throws that in my face?”
A spasm of regret replaces her defiant expression. And I kind of hate that it appears. I wish she didn’t know the full story of what happened with Cassandra. That I hadn’t felt the need to justify my actions to her. That I hadn’t cared what she thought of me. Her regret is a symbol of my own weakness, a reminder that I let this thing between us progress a lot farther than it ever should have. I should have stayed far away, starting that second I spotted her standing at the bar.
But she’s here right now. Inches from me. She’s right. Willpower is nothing I’m known for. And she’s the most devastating distraction I’ve ever encountered.
My right hand moves from the counter to her thigh, sliding up until I hit the hem of her dress. “Are you wet, Sophia?”
She doesn’t answer, setting her chin stubbornly.
I slide my hand so I can rub my thumb against the inside of her thigh. Her dress is way too short, one of her imagine-what’s-underneath outfits. My fingers are only a few inches from her pussy.
“You don’t want to lie, in case I check. But if you tell the truth…that doesn’t sound like being over me, does it?”
“Did you change your mind?” she snaps.
“No,” I admit.
I’m just losing my mind. I can’t think straight around her.
“Then, get away from me.” When I don’t move, she shoves my chest. “I mean it, Will.”
Reluctantly, I step back, adding a couple of feet between us. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I don’t want to play games.”
She throws my own words right back at me, paired with a defiant jut of her chin.
Sophia might accept casual sex if that’s what I offered, but that’s not what she really wants.
I was partially right about her. She’s not the poised golden girl or the polished princess some people see. But she does want pieces of the fairy tale, especially the prince.
And I’m a lot of things, but I’m no prince.
So, I just nod, not revealing the conflict churning inside of me.
Reminding myself of the sordid headlines with my name in them. Sophia deserves better than casual. Better than me. When she’s happy with a responsible guy, she’ll be glad this ended before it could really begin.
Sophia grabs her wineglass and then walks away. I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck a few times.
The last thing I feel like is sitting through a whole dinner with her family and the guy she might hook up with tonight. But I can’t think of a good excuse to leave. And I’m trying to make a good impression on Adler Beck, not offend him by taking off early.
“Well, that was interesting.”
I startle, glancing toward the second doorway. Saylor is standing there, studying me with a tilted head.
“Not interesting enough for me to mention it to my husband, if that’s what you’re worried about. But since you remind me a lot of myself, I will say this: Be careful. Becks are easy to fall for.”
She turns and leaves before I can say anything in response, which is good.
I have no clue what I would’ve said.
