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His gaze takes on a scary glint, his jaw tightening. “They’re out.”
“No, really, it’s okay. It was flattering.”
His expression is unreadable.
I muster up the courage, take a deep breath, and lay a hand on his chest. His eyes drop to my hand and back to me. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Ford.”
“Thank me for what?”
“You got stabbed saving me. I hate it happened.”
“It was nothing. Part of the job.”
Ouch, that stings.
I swallow again, my courage draining fast. The two martinis kick in, daring me to take advantage of this moment.
I tip up on my toes and whisper, “Thank you. Ford,” then press my lips to his. He’s stone still for a split second before his hands sift through my hair, slanting my head and slipping his tongue inside my mouth. The instant our tongues touch, a ripple of heat and electricity races through my veins, lighting me up inside. I clutch his shirt, opening wider to give him access and control.
He kisses me roughly, his lips and tongue moving greedily with mine, the taste of beer filling my mouth and igniting a new high. I moan softly and tighten my hold to remain standing.
In a flash, I’m against the wall, struggling to stand.
Unlike earlier, his expression isn’t unreadable.
It’s horrified and repulsed.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Please, God, don’t let this happen.
“Fuck, Rowan. What was that?”
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry.” The stammer comes out hoarse and raspy, my throat closing as humiliation washes over me.
“Why would you do that shit? You think I’m no better than those assholes hitting on you?”
Shayla and Ginger were wrong on so many levels. Letting him know I’m alright and making the first move…
Oh my God! I didn’t only make a mistake. I made a colossal mistake that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
He stares at me with such rejection, my heart crumbles. His gaze turns sympathetic, and I know my emotions won’t withstand whatever he is thinking.
A group of women pour into the hallway, grabbing his attention. My feet work on their own, rushing through them as they line up for the restroom. I don’t dare peer back, racing toward the door, almost crying in relief when Shelby walks in. She takes one look at me and goes on alert.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please get me out of here. I don’t feel well.”
She doesn’t ask another question, linking her elbow through mine and ushering me out. Tears of shame and mortification leak out of the corners of my eyes.
Epic.
Ginger’s words from earlier ring in my head.
Epic is right.
Epic disaster.
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