I didn’t fuckingknow.
In fact, I’d pressed her, demanded to her tell me everything, and she…
She fuckinglied.
I turn to the right, shove into an empty conference room, and slam the door shut.
The vulnerability, the pain, the fear that had clouded her emerald eyes mere moments before all tell me that she fuckinglied.
“Tell me, Red,” I growl, stepping close, hating that when her eyes flash with anger, her chin lifts, and her shoulders straighten a bolt of desire shoots through my middle.
Sick.
I’m a sick fuck.
“We don’t have time for you to have a shit fit,” she snaps. “I have a game to win, and I need to focus.”
She’s not wrong.
I shouldn’t have even told her about Hiller, not until later.
I don’t even really know why my feet carried me out of mytower—as she’d quipped. Fucking funny, that’s Joey. And beautiful. And strong. And smart. And…
A survivor.
Something that snaps me right back to razor focus.
“Tell me,” I demand again.
She sighs and it’s aggrieved. I don’t blame her. Ican’tblame her.
This whole interaction is out of line, but I can’t stop it.
The big rig’s speeding downhill, its brakes not working, the runaway truck ramp shut down.
I can’t stop the collision.
So…I stop trying.
“Damon,” she clips. “Fuck off and let me do my?—”
I move.
One second, she’s an arm’s length away from me.
The next, I’ve spun us, pinning that lush body of hers between mine and the door, putting my face in hers, holding her gaze with my own. “Stop delaying, Red, and. Just. Fucking. Tell. Me.”
Wide green eyes.
Pink, pink cheeks.
The tip of a slick tongue darting out to taste plump lips.
Christ, I want to kiss her.
That, if anything, is the giant ass stop sign I need smacking me across my face.
I step back from her like I’ve been burned.
