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I’m also beyond livid. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad in all my life. Even after Solange and Harrison betrayed me.
This situation gives me the icks. Joar Jacoby deliberately used me. He knew specifically what he was doing in the elevator…he seduced me.
I feel violated. Hurt.
Why would he do it?
A bigger question is, once I found out, why didn’t I bolt? Am I a glutton for punishment?
No, the truth is, I want him to explain. Apologize. Make sense of things. Redeem himself.
I’m so tired of this. Can I trust any man?
“Clover, let’s talk.” JJ—Joar—speaks calmly and authoritatively through the locked door.
Taking a few cleansing breaths, I mentally prepare to face him, then slump down into the sofa. I’m emotional. Crushed. Because I know my entire fantasy of him has blown up in my face.
He bangs on the door again. “Clover, I know you’re there. I can sense you. Open up, sweetness.”
That’s what does it. His term of endearment from our night in the elevator sets me off.
Sets. Me. Off.
I fly across the room. Fling open the door. “What do you want, Joar?”
“I know you’re mad…” He holds his hands up in surrender as he walks into my dressing room. A contrite look on his face.
Why do men say that? And why do they always wear that hang-dog expression when they do?
And why does he have to be so goddamn sexy? In that tailored gray suit. His hair all disheveled like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Stubble for days.
That mouth. Those lips. Those eyes.
No!
I shake my head in disgust. Storm back to the couch. Sulk against the cushions. Pull my knees to my chest. Take a deep breath to gather my wits. “The groveling is unbecoming. Please communicate with me like a man. Not a naughty boy who got caught sneaking candy.”
“Uh…” He raises his eyebrows. Looks around. “Candy?”
“Tell. Me. Why. You. Are. Here.” I pound my fist in my hand with each word.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I came for you, Clover.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Don’t lie to me. Don’t fucking deflect. Not today. I want to know why you were here before?”
“Same reason.” He moves toward me and sits on the edge of the couch. The energy between us is confusing. Disturbing. Sparks fly all around. “I came for you.”
His violet eyes capture mine. Plead with me.
Mine glare back at him because he’s destroyed my respect and trust and yet my pussy is soaked. It disgusts me that I want him to throw me over the back of this couch and pound his thick cock into me so hard I won’t be able to walk for a week.
Which makes me even madder.
I manage to keep my composure. Controlling my emotions gives me power. “So, let me get this straight. My husband owes you money. You think I have it. You befriended and fucked me under false pretenses because…”
“Ex,“ he growls.
I’m taken aback by his arrogance. “What?”
