He empties the backpack, muttering his way through the inventory. “Boots. Phone. Wallet.” He fans though the contents of his wallet.
Oh, this man.
“Relax, Casanova. Your tower of condoms is in tact and piled high.”
His jaw ticks. “So you did go through my things.”
Now I’m just pissed. “I didn’t have to. The second your wallet hit the floor at Player Central, they all came tumbling out.”
His voice lifts, sharp with offense. “So now I’m a player.”
“If the Magnum fits,” I fire back.
He scoops up his things in a rush, movements clipped and furious. When he looks at me, I brace for it.
The oh-so-pleasant don’t let the door hit you on the way out.
Being reduced to a one-night mistake.
Instead, something falters.
The anger in those ice-blue eyes fractures, giving way to hesitation. What breaks through is a breathtaking burst of hope.
The kind that can never last.
He straightens, holds my gaze a second too long, and in that suspended moment, I imagine everything.
My soul leans forward.
My stupid brain pulls back.
Everything hangs between us, crackling like electricity with nowhere to land.
The words we could say.
How effortlessly he could ruin me all over again. And how easily I’d let him.
The moment slips past me.
He checks his watch. “The room is paid until noon.” Reality hits as he turns and walks away.
The door shuts.
I collapse back onto the bed, arm over my face. “Sure,” I murmur to no one. “I’d love five more minutes.”
CHAPTER 22
Harrison
The room is paid until noon.
The words haunt me as I bolt out of there without a backward glance back. Every instinct screams that this is the fuck-up to end all fuck-ups.
I made my Manhattan penthouse sound like a pay-by-the-hour hotel to the naked woman still in my bed.
While I was at it, I could’ve left a few hundreds on the nightstand.
What kind of man does that?
