I can never focus after Mom’s health scares. And I’m still monumentally pissed over Connor’s cruel jabs this morning. And having to manage his stupid fake dates. I hate everything about being on their ridiculous look-at-our-bullshit-love-story campaign. Watching them play kissy face last night was fucking awful.
Maybe I should ask one of those “Am I The Asshole?” forums. This is a complex situation with a number of potential victims and assholes. Sounds like a job for the wisdom of the internet.
But Kayla’s counting on me. So I’ll suck it up, play social butterfly for an hour. I can smile through anything for an hour or two.
Here’s hoping.
TWENTY-FOUR
Connor
“Slider, sir?” the server asks, rolling over with a tray of mini-burgers toward me.
I grab a couple, my patience wearing thin.
Normally, these shindigs are my bread and butter—an opportunity to mingle with the team, to catch what’s on their minds when they clock out. Let them let loose a little, spill their guts.
But tonight, I’m not feeling it. A throbbing pain hammers away in my ear, dragging my mood down to an all-time low. The headaches have been more frequent, more relentless. Luckily, I’ve got that session with the new doc booked.
And as if the pounding in my skull wasn't enough, I’ve got Ethan, our Food and Beverage Director yapping my ear off about his honeymoon. Something about private pools and hula dancers. Lately, having anyone talk on my left feels like nails on a chalkboard to my sanity.
I muster a half-assed grunt as Ethan pauses to take a breath.
I down another hefty swig of Macallan, the burn the only thing taking the edge off this bitch of a headache. Then I slam another slider into my mouth as if it’s to blame for my foul mood.
Ethan keeps prattling on, oblivious. Volcanoes or snorkeling or some other tropical crap. Who gives a fuck. If I wanted a riveting tale of tropical escapades tonight, I’d have sat in with aLonely Planet.
That image of Lexi in the lethal zipper dress from last night is seared into my brain on a damn loop. That kind of outfit could stop a man’s heart. Stepping into the bar and catching her looking like she forgot half her wardrobe, I thought I might have to call a doctor for an entirely different reason. Did she wear it to get a rise out of me? Both figuratively and literally? Wouldn’t put it past her.
I tear into another slider, this one getting a double dose of my pent-up frustration.
And despite deliberately goading Lexi all night, I let Willow stay in our most expensive available suite then went home alone. Willow tried her best to pull me upstairs, but there’s zero happening there.
I haven’t jerked off as much in years. I couldn’t keep my hands off my cock, the need for release consuming me until I lost count of how many times I came last night.
All I could think about was taking Sullivan by her ridiculous zipper and ravishing her in the hotel elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse while we banged against the mirrored walls on our way up to the 70th floor.
I’d finally finish what we started weeks ago in that damn hotel bathroom. Since she first walked into that meeting with the senator and Willow, the sexual tension between us has been building like a wildfire.
We could bang it out and put us both out of our misery. I’d slide every thick inch into her, claiming what I’d been craving ever since she wrapped those creamy thighs around me. And this time, I won’t stop until Lexi is a quivering, moaning mess under me.
One and done. One intense, hate-fueled session to get her out of my system once and for all. Life could continue on its course, and maybe the flames would die.
No wonder Mason was salivating over her like a starved mutt. My inner caveman couldn’t help but take over. It was like a jolt to my competitive edge, like she’s my plaything and I didn’t want Mason having a turn with her. I didn’t get to finish what we started that night, and I’ll be damned if he gets his shot.
“Connor?” Ethan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, his expectant look suggesting I’ve missed a part of his riveting monologue.
“Huh?” I respond, caught off guard. Damn, I must’ve spaced out while he droned on. Trying to pay attention is exhausting lately.
Salvation comes in the form of Jim from security showing up at my side. “Sir, can I have a word?”
I clap Ethan on the back, maybe a bit too hard. Just my way of saying thanks for nearly putting me to sleep. “Ethan, gotta handle this.”
I turn to Jim.
“We found a lead on your car,” he informs. “Identified a guy potentially connected to the theft ring.”
He drops a name that doesn’t ring any bells. “And is he tied to Lexi Sullivan?”
