Page 59 of Personal Foul
“You didn’t text. You ran out the door this morning.”
“Again, I went to meet up with the guys.”
“We were in the middle of hooking up when you left.”
“No, you were in the middle of telling your friends how you’dneverbe drunk enough to fuck me when I left.”
“It was a cover story.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, you know it was. You helped me run around and hide things before they came in. You were hiding in the bathroom.”
“Because you fucking wanted me to.”
“Because it would have been obvious otherwise. I was wearing your shirt!”
“And the fucking scandal if they saw you on your knees for me, right? You’d never live it down.”
“We agreed this would be a secret from them. You know how they’ll act if they find out. And I won’t be the only one getting shit for it.”
“Right. So part of keeping your secret is acting like I normally would. And what would I normally be doing if I was out with my guys at a club and a woman like her came up to me?” He leans his hand against the wall above my shoulder, his face coming closer to mine.
I frown because he’s right. He was just acting normal. Keeping up appearances without really doing anything wrong. I have wildly overreacted. I feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck.
“You see my point?” He raises a brow.
I give a little nod because I refuse to concede it out loud.
“You don’t have to act like you’re enjoying it so much. And I still don’t want her touching you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re—”
I almost say it. The thing that isn’t true. The thing that can’t be true even if I want it to be.
“Because I’m?” His eyes drift over mine, searching, watching like he always does.
“Nothing.” I shake my head.
He grabs my wrist then, and pulls me off the wall, taking me with him at a fast pace toward the elevator. He slams his hand on the button and it’s called immediately. He pulls me in behind him, pressing the close-door button as his mouth descends on mine.
He kisses me hard. Punishing strokes, like he’s angry and frustrated and tired all at the same time. I kiss him back in equal measure. Not even sure why I’m mad at this point.
“Where are we going?” I whisper against his lips before he kisses me again.
TWENTY-FIVE
Wren
“Somewhere we can talk,”he answers, his tone still sharp.
The elevator dings a second later and he pulls away from me, and we turn the corner to see an attendant standing at a rope to this floor. It must be the VIP level because it looks exclusive and extravagant up here. Like they took the theme downstairs and then tripled down on the gold and black luxury.
Easton says something to her and flashes a card and she nods, writing something on the iPad she has in front of her. Then she motions for us to follow, and we’re led down a hall to a doorway where she gives Easton some additional information, before she tells us to have a good night.
The second she’s gone he opens the door and pulls me in behind him, pressing me up against the wall, his eyes blazing with a dangerous looking combination of anger and lust.
