Page 16 of Hot Hearts
I trudge up the stairs, lighthearted and hungry. I’ll make a late-night dinner for myself and Slater, and then we can talk about the text issue. After that, we’ll have sex but this time in the bedroom. She’ll be the perfect dessert. I throw open the door and find…nothing. The apartment is still empty. There is no sign of Slater, not a purse, not a tube of lipstick, not even a shred of lace from the panties I tore. She should have been back by now if she ran home to grab a few things.
It’s like she was never here. Like the morning I woke up and the side of her bed was empty. Pain tears through me and then anger. I slam the door shut and head for my car. Unlike before, I know her name, her address, and her Social Security number. She will never be able to hide from me again.
Chapter Eleven
SLATER
Abanging sound has my eyes flying open. I sit up, trying to get my bearings to whatever the hell is going on but don’t hear anything.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
What the hell is that?
“Slater, open the door, or I’ll have to break it.”
Oh, that’s my crazy baby daddy. I throw my blanket off, padding over to the door. I flip the lock, jerking the door open. What the heck does he think he’s doing?
“People are sleeping, jackass.” I grab his arm, yanking him into my apartment before one of my neighbors comes out. He’s got a grumpy-ass expression on his face, but it’s still handsome. Now is not the time to be thinking about his looks.We’re mad, I remind not only myself but my body as well. I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him. Brooks' eyes trail me up and down. It’s then I remember I’m only wearing an oversized shirt. “Don’t even think about it.”
Everything with us turns to sex, which does kind of sound nice right now.No, knock it off, Slater. It doesn’t matter that agood orgasm from Brooks would knock me right back out, but I can control myself—maybe.
“That’s how you answered the door? Did you even check the peephole?”
“I’ll have you know there isn’t one. It’s fake. I got it on Amazon and glued it onto the door so people would think I had one.” I thought it was smart. If people think you might be watching them, they won't do any funny shit.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, running his hand down his face in frustration. I’m not sure what he’s upset about. He’s the one banging on my door at an obscene hour.
“What time is it? Why are you here?”
“It’s after eleven, and I’m here because my wife isn’t at home.”
“We’re not married.” I hold up my hand. “Where’s my rock?”
“I’ll get one.” Brooks sounds defensive. “Where are your clothes?” I point with my thumb behind me toward the closet.
“And your home isn’t my home,” I add in there to remind not only him but me as well.
“We'll settle that later. Let’s go.”
“No.” I step back. “It’s so late. If you wanted me to come back to your place?—”
“Our place.” I jump right over his comment.
“Then maybe you should have noticed I left six hours ago!” I shout the last part. Oh, I guess I’m madder about that than I realized.
“I thought you went home to grab things and return.”
“No clue how you got that idea, but it’s still six hours, so whatever.” I shrug. ”I saw your note. If you got shit to do, that’s fine, but I’m not staying locked away.”
I don’t know why it’s bugging me that he wasn’t there when I woke up or that he didn’t come back, but it is. Which I can’t admit because that would make me a giant hypocrite.
“I sent Gabby to check on you. There was an issue in the kitchen I had to deal with.”
“So you sent a random worker up to check on me.”
“Gabby isn’t random.”
I narrow my eyes. “Really dark hair? Bright red lipstick?” I could never pull that lip color off, but she had.
