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“JJ,“ I sneer. Flick my gaze quickly away.
His driver gets out and stands to the side. Joar acknowledges him with a wave as he returns his attention to me, smirking, “You look scrumptious. Your date couldn’t handle you?”
“That is none of your business.“ I toss my head. Flounce toward my car.
That’s when I make a big mistake. I look back at him. To find his violet eyes regarding me like he’s about to toss me on the hood of the car, yank my panties down and fuck me raw in front of this entire crowd of people.
Oh God. Why does that make me even hotter?
Nevertheless, the reality of the situation is: I’m being cornered by curious photographers. All around me bright flashes of light close in. Dozens of people yell, “Clover.”
My claustrophobia kicks in. I freeze.
In a flash, Joar’s strong arm winds around my waist and he whisks me to the driver’s side of my car. “You’re safe now,” he assures.
I stiffen when I realize he’s touching me. No matter how much he wants to change my mind, I don’t trust this guy. I hate what he did to me. Hate that he’s still having me followed. It’s not cool.
He may have given me the best sex of my life, but I can’t allow myself to weaken and find myself naked and writhing under him.
It would be all over then.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I say through gritted teeth, extricating myself from his grasp and sliding into the driver’s seat.
With one hand on the hood and the other on the outside handle, Joar leans down, concerned. “Be careful. Don’t let the paps tail you.”
“I’ll be fine.” I keep my eyes straight ahead, but my adrenaline begins to spike.
He doesn’t move for a beat. “Should I have my guy escort you home?”
“No!” I pound the steering wheel a little too emphatically. Hell. Considering how aggressive the paparazzi are, it wouldn’t be the worst idea. Plus he already knows where I live…
No. Stay strong.
Joar moves a half step away, still peering at me. I can feel it, though I refuse to look up at him. “Would you ever consider having a real conversation with me?”
Instantaneously, I cave in and gaze deep into his gorgeous eyes, which up close are swirls of so many blues—I guess that’s what makes them appear purple. “I can’t do it, JJ. I don’t trust you. Following me and showing up everywhere is stalkerish. Creepy. Just the fact that you’ll go to these lengths to get your way means you still don’t understand why what you did is unforgivable. You’re not the kind of man I want in my life.”
“Ah.” His jaw sets. Hurt flickers and then floats away into steely reserve. It’s like JJ transforms into Joar right before my eyes. “You see things a little differently than me, sweetness. I am not the kind of man who begs. The offer stands if you change your mind, but you’ll have to come to me.”
He shuts the door.
I whisper, “Fat chance” to no one in particular.
Hopefully this Joar chapter is over now.
Except, why do I feel so defeated?
Chapter sixteen
Joar
A Few Days Later
Watching Clover go on dates with these stupid men has been fucking excruciating.
Considering the losers she’s been “finding herself” with, I’m fighting the urge to feel insulted that she won’t give me a second chance. In the past month, she’s been out with a musician friend of Ronni’s husband, a firefighter, an Olympic gold medalist in snowboarding, and the shithead from the other night.
So far, she hasn’t fucked any of them. I know this because I’ve followed her.
