His voice was hoarse, each word a low snarl, and it had me squeezing my thighs together without thought. It was automatic, after one night. Same with the curl of desire in my belly, the heat between my legs. That was the power of Riley Walsh's growls: immediate,undeniablelust.
Too bad lust was a fucking idiot who didn't know what was goodforher.
"Fine," I replied, meeting his gaze with an arched eyebrow because fuck him. Fuck his hang-ups, fuck his issues, fuck his blow-offattitude.
He blinked away, deflating as if he'd heard my thoughts. "Okay,so—"
"I'll be ready in half an hour." I dropped my fork to the plate with a clang and pushed away from the table. I marched past him but stopped once I'd cleared his chair. Speaking over my shoulder, I said to his back, "And I want to bealone."
I went right on stomping until I reached our room, and then stumbled inside with my quivery-shaky-lusty legs. Sliding down the door, I covered my flushed cheeks with my hands and wondered how the hell I'd gotten here. Not here, the floor of this inn, but here, this inside out and back again disaster. But then I blinked, suddenly concerned I was in thewrongroom.
Ourroom had been a mess of pillows, bed linens, and clothes. An overturned chair, a curtain hanging askew, all the tchotchkes out ofplace.
Thisroom waspristine.
But it was our room. My red wristlet sat on the desk, and Riley's messenger bag lay beside it. Gulping, I gazed at the crisply made beds, the precise order of the framed artwork and draperies. No longer abandoned beside the bed, last evening's dress now hung in the closet with my shoes seated on the floor directly beneath it. Riley's things were packed, his luggage standing tall besidethedoor.
I knew housekeeping hadn't been through because I'd left the Do Not Disturb sign on the door when I'd gone in search of breakfast and it was still there now. This was Riley's handiwork. He'd put the room back torightsand—
—are—
—those—
—my—
—panties?
He'd folded my panties. The ones he'd peeled off my body last night. Folded like he'd taken a professional lingerie-handling class at Victoria's Secret, and left on the corner of the bed alongsidemybra.
I couldn't decide whether he was a decent guy who simply couldn't handle the awkward morning-after shit or a straight-up psychopath. Instead of getting to the bottom of that conundrum, I scrambled off the floor and into the bathroom. There was dried semen on my thighs—and probably everywhere else—and I neededitgone.
With the hot water cranked all the way up, I stripped out of my clothes. I caught sight of a dark patch on my upper thigh, and shifted to get a better look at it in the mirror. It was ink, almost the size of my fist. There was a shape there, maybe some lines, but it was smudged beyond recognition. Right now, I didn't want to know what it was or how it had gotten there. I wanted to get all of it—all of him—offme.
This arrangement couldn't continue. We couldn't pretend to be dating anymore, and we couldn't actually be dating either. That was out of the question because…becauseitwas.
Because he didn't want me this morning.Give him another chance, maybehewill.
Because he was stuck on his ex-girlfriend.He wasn't lastnight.
Because he was a man-child who hadn't outgrown his clumsy.Exceptinbed.
Because he wasn't my type.Like that stoppedanything.
Because I didn't need areason.
I didn't take long to wash and dress, and then throw my things into my overnight bag. There was neither mascara nor lip color in the cards today, and I was happierwithoutthem.
Riley was waiting in the lobby when I emerged, and offered only a nod as he rushed past me. I assumed he was heading upstairs to collect his luggage, but one of the many things missing from this day was opencommunication.
I didn't understand how this had happened. How we'd gone from friends—goodfriends—to people who couldn't choke out more than a few syllables at a time. Even if he didn't want anything to come of this weekend, he wasn't required to be an asshole about it. He could've saidHey, Alex. That's not what I want from youand I would've been fine. My pride and what was left of my heart would still be wounded, but at least I'd have something to work with. Anything was better than the shifty-eyedbrush-off.
When Riley returned with his bag in tow, he headed straight for the door and held it open. Again, I was forced to assume that he meant for me to follow. "I take it we're leaving now," I said, stepping out onto thesidewalk.
He nodded in response, and we walked the two blocks to the parking lot in silence. If the entire trip home was going to be this awkward and tense, I was introuble.
"Would you mind if we made one stop?" Riley asked as he opened the back gate ofhisSUV.
"Whatever you want," Imurmured.
