“The way things were left?” His eyes pinch a fraction.
“Why are you so calm?” I shriek. “A man just appeared claiming to be my husband, and you aren’t even bothered. If that were me, I’d be spitting feathers. I’d be…”
I slam my palm down onto the desk, sucking in air like I’m in danger of passing out.
“I’d be?—”
“You’d be all fired up like you are now,” Sterling muses, studying me. “All that energy when I first met you. All that grit. You’ve been worrying so much that it’s been doused recently. Not anymore.” A small smile curls his lips. “Welcome back.”
I falter, taking a step back from his desk. Is he messing with me? Is this all a big game to him?
He holds my eyes but makes no attempt to stand or come to me. No attempt to stop me from spinning on my heels and stalking out of his office again.
“He isn’t my husband.”
“Come here.”
My brows shoot up at his demand.
“Come here, Hallie.” He pushes his chair away from his desk, making a gap big enough for me to slide in front of him.
Something in his low tone makes me comply. I have to know what he’s thinking. Why he’d cut me off like this without letting me explain.
Even if I’m about to get my heart handed back to me, ripped to shreds, I have to know what he’s going to say.
And after everything that’s happened, I need to look into his eyes as he says it.
I slip into the small gap and lean back against his desk, my arms crossed tightly over my chest like they’ll offer protection.
His eyes burn into mine and he reaches up to loosen his tie.
“Sit,” he commands.
I don’t move.
He uncurls my arms gently, placing them down by my sides. Then he grips my waist, lifting me onto the desk.
My ass lands on top of the paperwork he was signing, creasing it, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“Lean back.”
I stare at him, my chest heaving with angry, confused breaths. He takes his time rolling one shirt sleeve up, followed by the other with meticulous care.
My eyes drop to the scars running up his left forearm. He was so tender last night. So loving. I desperately want to hold on to those memories if they’re all I’ll have left of him after today.
He plants a hand over my chest. “Lean back,” he repeats, easing me down until I’m resting on my elbows.
“What? Why?”
He slides his hands down my thighs slowly.
Then he shoves my dress up around my waist like his patience has snapped.
“What are you doing? Sterling?”
“Removing obstacles.”
He holds my eyes and hooks a finger into my lace panties, ripping them. Cool air whips against my clit and I shudder, trying to clench my thighs together.
