But Jace will just be here when I get home.
Ready to pounce…or maybe goad me into losing my temper and agreeing to a wholly stupid date.
Sex is easy.
Dates are…not.
They lead to me being an idiot.
“And you’re not being an idiot right now?” I ask my reflection.
Because even though it would make the most sense to put on my ugliest, frumpiest dress, to slap on my makeup in the most unflattering way…something stopped me.
Or maybe, something egged me on.
To pull out my sexiest little black dress, my skimpiest lingerie to wear beneath it, my strappy silver sandals.
So maybe, I’m determined to torture him—and also myself, imagining his reaction to the various parts of my outfit.
Or maybe, I just want him to think I’m beautiful.
That thought has alarm bells blaring through my head, has the reality of what I’m doing, what I’m playing with ricocheting across my mind.
The tornado inside my brain has become an F5.
I’m spinning out, caught in the dangerous crosshairs, debris flying my way.
“I can’t do this,” I hiss at my reflection, reaching for my makeup wipes.
But before I can open the package, there’s a knock at the door.
“Shit,” I whisper, freezing, wondering if whoever is on the other side—likely a certain troublesome billionaire—is going to go away.
My answer comes approximately ten seconds later…
With another knock.
I look around my bathroom like an escape hatch is suddenly going to open up—and when, spoiler alert, itdoesn’t, I glare at my reflection.
Too much boobage.
Too much leg.
Too…justmuch.
But there’s another flipping knock and?—
“Open up, cookie!” Jace hollers through the wood. “I can hear the trashy show playing on the TV and know you’re in there.”
“Dammit,” I whisper.
I should have put my earbuds in and blasted a podcast, then I could have legitimately ignored the knocking.
Unfortunately, I can’t.
Because it keeps coming.
And it’s just us on this floor. The man can knock till his heart’s content and not disturb anyone—or anyone aside from me.
