“In the bathroom. Thanks for the clothes.”
Dixon laughs and ends the call. I pluck some tissues out of the distributor and start drying my face. I’m in the middle of unbuttoning my stained shirt when the bathroom door bursts open.
“Ah, finally. This shirt was starting to stick to my skin like gorilla glue. It’s disgust…ing.” My smile falters instantly at the sight of Jason holding the black pants and lilac shirt in his arms.
Would it kill him to stop getting involved with me all the time? Dixon will get an earful when I catch him. He can’t keep delegating his work.
“Your manager was looking for you. He wanted to give these to you,” he says, gesturing to the clean clothes. “I suggested I’d take them off his arms and hand them to you myself.”
It certainly does alleviate Dixon’s work, considering he’s busy with more important matters, but that doesn’t mean I want to be alone in a room with Jason.
With one hand, he locks the door behind him and makes his way to the sink. He hands me the clothes in utter silence, but it’s undeniable that he wants to tell me something. Ignoring him, I grab the garments and lay them down on the marble.
“Are you avoiding me?”
“What makes you think that?”
His gaze narrows on me. “Don’t play coy with me. You’ve been living in that hotel for weeks now. When are you coming home?”
“I’m good where I am. Don’t bother trying tochangemy mind.”
He sighs exasperatedly. “I already told you I’m sorry. What more do you need?”
I resume unbuttoning my shirt, then slip it off and drop it on the edge of the sink. My skin feels gross and sticky because of that crappy, overly sugary Frappuccino.
“Drop it. I don’t care about apologies.”
During the entire time I’m wiping my torso with wet tissues, he gawks at me. I feel like a fish in an aquarium, trapped in a tank with nowhere to go but to swim in circles.
“Why did you lock the door?” I mutter, focusing on my task. “I’m not going back with you, and this childish game of yours won’t change my mind.”
He slides his broad arms around my waist like a lover would, and places soft kisses on my shoulder. “I miss you.”
My stomach squirms from his touch, and I’d rather he keep his hands to himself. Maybe that’s not the whole truth. I mean, I desirehis touch at times, but it could be anyone’s, really. I’m lonely and sexually frustrated to the point where it’s pathetic. Anyone would do, but am I desperate enough to let him fuck me in a public bathroom minutes before my meeting?
Hell no.
“Get off,” I hiss. His grip tightens on me as he bites down on my shoulder, making me gasp. “You fucking asshole. Don’t even think about it. I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Right. Remind me to bring that up next time you come begging me to fuck you.”
He surely knows how to be a fucking asshole when things don’t go his way. He’s always been a jerk, but I don’t have time for this, so I attempt to shove him away.
His torso presses into my back while his right hand slides over my chest and pinches my nipple. It’s infuriating how, no matter how hard I try to run, I just can’t get away from him and end up right where I started.
It’s a vicious cycle where he’s the predator, and I’m the prey.
“Jason. I have a meeting in ten minutes. Stop it,” I grunt, digging my nails in his skin.
“Why do you always avoid me? Hmm? Don’t tell me it’s still because of that stupid argument,” he whispers against my ear. “Stop running from me.”
There are plenty of reasons, but if I had to name them all, I’d be standing in this bathroom till tomorrow evening. The argument is one of them. I can’t deny that, but again, now isn’t the time to argue.
I elbow him in the rib and tidy myself, slightly shaken. “You’re fucking annoying.”
“Answer me instead of running away after every issue.”
“Running away? Are you fucking serious right now? You-” I stop myself and sigh. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Just leave.”
