Cane signs the check and stands, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Do you want to walk through the hotel? Gamble a little?” Max asks, locking his fingers through Kari’s. She looks up at him and grins, and he places a kiss on her forehead.
Cane looks at me, his brows pulled together, before answering. “Nah, we’re going up to our room. I need to have a conversation with myfiancée.”
FIFTY-THREE
Cane
I trymy hardest not to drag her through the damn hotel. She’s had a lot to drink, is teetering on her heels, and is sulking because I won’t marry her in some cheesy-ass wedding chapel in the middle of the night.
I’m pissed, and I’m not sure where to really even direct it.
At myself for turning her down, even under the circumstances. At her for putting me in that spot. At Kari for making us come here in the first place. At Max because he’s always a good person to be pissed at, reason notwithstanding.
The elevator door chimes open, and I pull her down the hall to our room. She’s slow behind me, and I have half a notion to pick her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her the rest of the way.
I insert the card and press the door open, pulling Jada into the room behind me.
I toss my wallet and the card on the table by the lamp and turn to face her.
Her cheeks are red, her eyes wide. She’s biting her bottom lip, andI’m not sure if it’s because she’s nervous or to keep from crying. But I’m not having it either way.
My hands cup the sides of her face, and I bring my mouth to hers. She places her palms on my chest and tries to push me back.
“Cane ...” she says, but I don’t let her finish. I work her lips over with mine, feeling her struggle against me.
She can struggle all she wants, but my pointwillbe made.
“Cane, stop,” she says again. I allow her to pull back, dropping my hands to my sides. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath.
“What?”
“I need a minute.”
“Why?”
She drops her chin and walks past me, stopping at the foot of the bed. Her back is to me as she kicks off her heels.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask.
“No. Yes. Kind of?”
Fair enough.
“Okay. Take your clothes off.”
She spins around, wobbling a little. “What?”
“You wanna fight?” I shrug off my shirt and toss it aside. I begin to unfasten my pants. “We can fight. That’s fine. I’m more than happy to argue with you. Just get that dress off.”
“I completely don’t understand.”
“If we fight, we fight naked. Now get the fucking dress off, or I’ll take it off you.”
She tosses her shoulders back, trying to look defiant. She crosses her arms over her chest.
I remove my shoes and socks and feel her gaze on me. I slip out of my pants and kick them to the side with my shirt, ignoring her. I can hear her breath pick up, but I don’t look up. I undo my watch and set it on the table beside my wallet.
