One second, I’m striding toward the conference room that I’m using as my office and the next, my arm is in an iron grip and I’m being dragged forward.
Into that conference room.
My temper spikes—I’m getting really fucking tired of him hauling me around—and I yank at my arm, trying to free it from Damon’s hold.
But he doesn’t release me, just slams the door shut and leans back against it. “What the fuck, Red?”
I ignore the shiver that slides through me.
I like it when he calls me Red.
Though not as much as I like him calling me baby.
I don’t let that soften me.
Because, first, I was walking into this room anyway. Second, like I said, I’m tired of this man hauling me around—or well, tired of him dragging me through halls and shoving me through doors.
Third, I don’t appreciate the scowl or the snapped-out question.
“What crawled up your ass this morning?” I grit.
His scowl deepens. “You’re seriously going to try that shit?”
“Byshit, you mean doing my job and then getting ready to eat something?” I cross my arms and glare at him. “I was going to invite you to get pancakes with me, you grouchy jerk. And they’re really freaking good pancakes.”
He doesn’t seem to let that penetrate because his expression grows even more fierce. “You’re the one who left this morning,baby.” He pushes off the door, bending so his face is in mine. His hair is damp, his blue eyes spark with anger, and the scent of his cologne wraps around me.
It’s almost enough to distract me.
Thankfully, I’m used to resisting all of the temptation of Damon.
I shove the thread of desire down, the same one that wrapped around me when I woke this morning, telling me to roll into Damon’s sleeping form and wake him with my hands and mouth.
But we were up late last night.
He doesn’t get enough sleep as it is.
So, I quietly dressed and left his room and got ready for morning skate.
That was all.
Now he’s here, acting like this and?—
“No pancakes for you,” I growl, spinning away from him and moving over to the table, starting to pack up my shit. I need medicinal carbs. Immediately.
I ignore the silence that grows as I stuff everything into my backpack—laptop, tablet, papers, water bottle. But I can’t ignore it for long.
Because my temper gets the better of me.
I zip up my backpack, lift my gaze to his, glaring at him. “And for the record, you were sleeping and I had to come to the rink. You didn’t need to be here, so I let you rest.”
His face changes, the asshole bleeding away.
Too late.
I’m fully pissed now.
“I thought we got somewhere last night. I—” I press my lips together then exhale. “I took a chance last night and…” I sigh. “You’re just going to be like this? I don’t need another asshole in my life who’s trying to control me. If I want to leave, I get to leave. If I want it to be one night, it’ll be one fucking night. If I want it to be over, it’ll be?—”
