“He’s pawing at you.”
“I’ll give you pawing.” She grits her teeth, yet again trying to take me down, but I’ve got over a foot and probably one hundred pounds on her. I catch her hands, holding them tightlybetween mine and tow her into me. She seethes, cheeks flushed, with tiny baby hairs sticking to her temples. “You had no right to come in here swinging your dick around.”
I can’t help it. I let a smile loose. Feisty thing. “If I really came in here swinging my dick around, then maybe your smart mouth would be quiet for once.” She has no quick-witted response, so I take the opportunity to tell her, “If you want to work out with someone, I’ll hire them. Somebody much better than that prick.”
“You’re the prick.” The fight has mostly drained out of her, though I still don’t release her hands. Instead, I press them against my pecs, her fingers butting up against my collarbone. Her fingernails are painted a dark orange. She and Paisley have standing weekly nail appointments, on my dime.
Makes me think I should ask her to get my favorite color—the same blue as her eyes—or maybe Founders colors.
But with her still huffing and puffing, I figure I’ll stick with one request at a time. “It would make me feel better if you worked with a professional.”
“Brendan is a professional.”
“Brendanwas staring at your ass when I walked in.”
“Was not.”
“He’s not here to actually help you.”
She eventually breaks and straight up laughs in my face. “You are…” She loses her smile. “You’re serious.”
I nod, letting her go when she tugs, and I can’t make out the series of emotions that crosses her features. A mixture of confusion and acquiescence, maybe.
That she can tell how serious I am. How knowing another man had his hands on her made me want to tear down the whole building. How having her in my life, in my home every day, sleeping down the hall every weekend, has made me no better than an animal.
Over these past few months, I have felt different, more focused and less concerned with finding my latest fix of adrenaline. Because this, right here, having Nadine in front of me, herlips parted, chest rising with each breath, nipples pebbled beneath her top, is my adrenaline.
No race or car, drink or drug, paycheck or ring could make me feel as alive as she does.
And I don’t want to give her up to anything or anyone.
She licks her lips and brushes her hand over her hair, her throat lifting on a swallow as her gaze coasts around the empty gym. “I don’t know what you’re doing here.”
She knows. From the way she can’t hold my gaze, she knows.
I try to play it cool and shrug. “Since I’m home, I can pick up Paisley from school. Do you want to come with me?”
“No.” The venom is back in her voice. “Not after how you embarrassed me.”
“Better than having him assault you,” I say to her back when she stomps past me.
“He’s a nice guy.”
I follow her to the elevator and use my key card to call it, pressing the button for the penthouse when we step inside. “You know how many nice guys take it too far after earning your trust?”
She fumes at me over her shoulder. “You don’t need to mansplain the female experience to me. I know what it’s like for the nice guy to go too far.”
“Youwhat?”
I reach for her hand, but she brushes me away. “Nothing.”
She clearly didn’t mean to blurt that out, though I’m not going to drop this subject. “It’s not nothing. Did someone hurt you?”
The elevator opens to the entryway of my apartment, and she marches off, trying to get away from me and this conversation. Not happening.
“Who was it? When?” I place my hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop right inside the door. “Nadine, please.”
I don’t beg, but I will. I will beg her to explain this to me. Because I won’t rest until I know.
