Page 17 of Sleeping with the Frenemy

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

A tear streaked down her face. She swiped it away. “I want you to go.”

“Vic—”

“Leave!” She flung a hand toward the door. “God, Chase, how many times have I said no today? Yet you don’t seem to hear it.”

My temper flared. It was my turn to narrow my eyes. “I hope you’re not suggesting you didn’t want what passed between us. Because I still have your wet panties in my pocket to prove you did.”

“Get out.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest. Part of me wanted to cross the short distance between us and snatch her into my arms. And, yeah, take her right back to the table and work out our differences with a bout of angry sex.

But tension arced between us like a hot wire. If it snapped, we could both get burned.

I walked past her and snatched my coat from the floor, then swung it around my shoulders as I went to the door.

She pressed her lips together, her posture rigid.

I put my hand on the knob. “I’m going for now, Victoria. But this isn’t over between us. Not by a long shot.”

No response. Just a lift of her chin.

“I’ll be back,” I told her. “And you’ll be waiting, because you don’t want it to be over, either.”

Her eyes hardened.

I smiled. “Wear black panties next time.”

I left, her angry gasp on my heels as I shut the door behind me.

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