Page 16 of Pandora's Pain
His beautiful eyes shone with a smile as he traced my features. Nerves tingled through me when he gripped my hip and held me in place against the door. His body warmed mine as his weight pressed against me.
Hooded eyes looked down on me. He leaned slowly closer. His lips brushed against the corner of my mouth, and energy coiled through my chest.
A single chaste kiss was all there was.
He pulled back, making a pent-up sigh leave my lips.
“Good night, Hope.”
My fingers fisted in his shirt in a childish way. I wasn’t ready for him to leave. I wasn’t ready for the day to come to an end. But if he didn’t leave… the box would take him.
“Good night,” I whispered, as I reluctantly released him.
A smile tilted his lips as he stepped back from me like a gentleman.
I slipped inside my room, letting my head lean back against the cool door as I tried to find the breath in my lungs.
Ashton didn’t ask to come inside. He didn’t pressure me. He barely even kissed me.
“Maybe you’re not as tolerable looking as you thought.” Alex’s taunting tone stole the euphoric feeling Ashton left me with.
“I’m very tolerable. Thank you very much.”
He shrugged his shoulders before flipping through the channels once again. He sat with his legs spread wide. Total arrogance clung to him. “And yet you struck out with the world’s most notorious man whore.”
“Did it ever occur to you that he might be a nice guy?”
Rumbling laughter shook through him. He tipped his head back to laugh outright out at me.
Shit. What if he’s right?What if I’m not tolerable looking?
Chapter Eight
Pity clung to my stomach as I ate slow bites of the fruit tray the waiter brought me. I’d managed to sneak out of our room early this morning. I was tired of looking at Alex’s condescending face.
Breakfast alone was much better. It was something I was used to, even.
I suppose I shouldn’t have worried about sending Ashton away to the gods because he wasn’t even interested in me like that.
The table jostled as I shoved out of my seat. My bare feet brushed over the soft carpet and a few older women at a table near the door eyed my bathrobe as I passed.
Get used to it, ladies. You’re lucky I’m not naked right now.
I made my way from the hotel restaurant a few floors above my room. When the glass walls revealed a long glossy table with a dozen chairs seated around it, I was surprised to find Zavier alone inside. A black neck tie was perfectly in place against his shirt. A file with dozens of papers was open to him as he drew lazily inside a notebook.
My palm pressed against the cold glass door. His eyes met mine, but the low set of his brow remained in place.
Gone was the warm smile he held for me yesterday.
A quick flowing language drifted from a hexagon shaped speaker placed just in front of him. I took my time walking toward him, and his gaze shifted down my bare legs.
“Ce n'est pas comme ça qu'on fait les choses.” Zavier’s pretty accent startled me, making me look at him differently as the syllables kissed his lips.
I remained a quiet, uninvited spectator as he continued with his conference call.
A few words were written down in his notebook but mostly just doodles lined the page. I lingered near him, trying to make sense of the scattered papers in front of him. Warm fingers brushed against the back of my thigh, sending a shiver up my core. He jerked away from me, his swivel chair groaning in protest as he pulled back.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
