Page 19 of Chad's Chase
As the pressing force of his arm eased from my neck, he took too long to deny it for it tonotbe the truth.
Holy shit. He wanted me.Iwanted to kill him, and he wantedme. What would he do right now if he knew who I was and why I was there?
The too-late-to-be-true denial came. “I didn’t mess with your car.”
“You’re a liar,” I whispered.
Releasing me completely, he took a step back, but wouldn’t look at me. Because he was lying. “I didn’t.”
“You’re. Aliar.”
Resealing the foot-apart distance between us, I fisted his lapels and pressed my body up against his. Because I’d felt andlovedthe feel of his hard, towering body against mine, and craved more. “Finish what you started, boss. Pretend I didn’t just kick your ass. Pretend I’m stranded in the dark with a car that won’t start. Do what you planned on doing.Takethat kiss, that touch.Stealthat moment with me. Here. Now.”
His cock twitched against my stomach, but he did nothing. Just watched my lips. Confusion. I could see it. He wanted me so bad he didn’t know what to do with me. And I was so unnaturally feeling him right now, I wished he would flipping do something. Fling me on the car bonnet and fuck me rabidly under the moonlight.
But he did nothing. Nothing at all. Except stare down at me with those conflicted dark eyes.
With an irritated growl, I let go of his lapels and chucked him. He moved back only a foot. Still saying nothing.
“Listen,” I snapped, with unexplainable anger, “if you’re not gonna follow through on your half-assed plan, then please fix whatever the fuck you messed with on my car so I can get the hell out of here.”
A minute of silence. Then he moved past me and opened my car door, pulled on the lever, and popped the hood. Rounding to the front, he took something shiny and metal from his pants pocket and reattached it to wherever he’d removed it from, then closed down the hood.
Moving to the side, he wordlessly watched me climb into the car, slamming the door harder than I needed to, and peel out of the parking lot.
And I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand what the fuck just happened.
I got home to a quiet, empty house.
No Sydney. All her stuff was gone. Clean.
Espying an envelope on the nightstand, I snatched it up and found a note inside:
Babe,
I know it’s cowardly of me to break up with you in a letter.
I’m sorry. But I’ve been seeing someone else.
He no longer wants to share me, not even with a woman, so he gave me an ultimatum. And I chose him. I’m so sorr—
I stopped reading and crushed the paper in my hand, aimed, and did a Kobe Bryant. The light-weighted crumple of paper landed in the wastebasket across the room.
Now what was I going to do for sex and companionship? Find a new girlfriend and start all over again with the trust thing? Hell. San Francisco was getting more and more annoying as the days dragged by.
I needed a girl pronto, because I needed sex. Sex was my drug. It was my high. It kept me leveled, focused. I needed it in mornings before and after my cup of coffee, and I needed it at night before and after my shower for bed. I needed sex. I just needed it.
And now this dumb blonde bailed on me.
I hated this place. It was sun-smoldering hot, quiet, and kill-me-now boring.
Now if I had done what I was supposed to do and snapped Chad’s goddamn neck when I had the chance, I could be boarding a jet right now to freedom.
But no, I’d screwed up. Letting lust, or whatever that feeling was, take over me. And instead of killing the damn man, I kissed him.
Kissedhim.
Holy shitstick, what was happening to me? Have I been settled in this place for so long that I’ve completely forgotten how to do my job? It all could’ve ended tonight. Job complete. And I blew it.
