“Date not go well, then?” he asks, clearly in the mood to pick another fight. I’m not falling for it.
“It was great. Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say, as I turn back toward him.
He stands from his chair and his face slowly comes into the light with every step forward he takes. Now only a few feet from me, he sets his beer on the end table and stares at me, examining every inch of my face. “He didn’t, did he? He didn’t kiss you.”
I’m not sure if he can see through the brave façade I’m trying to wear, or if he actually sees that these lips of mine are untouched, but he steps even closer and lifts his hand to my face, his thumb pulling on my bottom lip.
“He didn’t kiss this mouth, did he?”
I take a step back, still clutching my heels. “Like I said, that’s none of your business, JP.” Before he can say another thing, I turn away from him and head to my room. I need to get out of this dress and into something comfortable so I can go to bed and forget this entire night. When I reach my room, I set down my heels and twist my arm behind me to undo my zipper. But, for some reason, even though I was the one who got myself into this dress, I can’t seem to reach it.
Shit.
But then I feel a strong hand touch my shoulder.
I nearly jump out of my skin as he crowds my back and whispers, “Allow me.” His voice feels like ripples of heat caressing my skin. I don’t dare move. I don’t dare say a thing because, I’m ashamed to say, I’m desperate. Desperate for a man to touch me.I’m desperate to know that I’m someone who can be treasured the way Huxley treasures Lottie, and how Jeff loves Mom.
But I think that’s why it’s been so confusing being around JP. He’s sexy as hell, and in the moments we get along, the moments I feel such a deep connection—as if I’m seeing the real JP—I’m so tempted to want more. But knowing he doesn’t want me for anything more than a sexy night has probably tipped me closer to this edge called desperation.
I’m just a hopeless romantic looking for someone to love her.
The zipper of my dress is gently pulled down until I feel the sides of my dress open. The grip he has on my shoulder tightens.
“What’s this?” he asks, his finger tracing over my lingerie. “Did you wear this for him?”
My strapless, one-piece black bustier. I didn’t, actually. It’s something I like to wear every day. Lingerie is the one thing that I splurge on, because it makes me feel special. It makes me feel good under my clothes. It makes me feel sexy, even though my sex life is at an all-time low for the moment.
I spin around and hold my dress up with one hand across my chest. “I did,” I answer, lying. I feel like provoking him. Misery loves company. It’s a shitty thing to do, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly right now.
“And he didn’t kiss you... that seems fucking stupid.”
“I never said he didn’t kiss me,” I shoot back. “You just assumed.”
He steps even closer, his hand now curling possessively around the nape of my neck. I have no idea what’s happening, what’s possessing him to do this, or possessing me to let it happen, but I stand tall—as tall as I can—and hold my chin up high, challenging him.
“I’m not assuming, I know.”
“Were you watching us?”
He shakes his head. “I know you, Kelsey. If that man kissed you, you’d have come barreling into this penthouse, happy. But that’s not the case, is it? There’s a droop in your shoulders, no joy in your smile. The date didn’t go the way you wanted it. And now, you’re back at ground zero, attempting to find someone else to take you out.”
Insult laces his every syllable, and it’s like a repeated strike against my heart.
“The date was amazing, actually,” I say. “And no, he didn’t kiss me, but he was also being a gentleman, something I’m sure you know nothing about.”
He propels me backward, and I’m so shocked that I brace my hands on his chest for balance, letting my dress slip to the ground, leaving me in nothing but my lingerie.
“What did I tell you about being a gentleman? I know how to hold a goddamn door open for a woman. I know how to make sure she’s well taken care of on a date with engaging conversation. Being a gentleman doesn’t mean you don’t take what you both want.”
“Are you saying you’d have kissed me?”
“I would’ve done more than kiss you,” he says, his voice so dark that I wonder if something happened to him tonight, but I’m so lost in my own world that I don’t have time to think about why he’s acting like this, what has caused this...aggression. “I wouldn’t have left you alone in a penthouse with another man, that’s for damn sure.”
He continues to walk me backwards until my legs hit the edge of the bed.
