This wasn’t right. He’d known that before her kiss.
But he hadn’t understood.
Even as he stepped back, he saw the confusion and hurt in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had been sanity to him in the chaos of politics. He jerked off his hat. Wanted to apologize but somehow knew it wouldn’t come out right.
Head still not clear from what he’d let overtake them, Stone shifted away. “This can’t … I can’t …” He mumbled some excuse and shoved toward the doors. Moved fast, too afraid he’d throw himself back at her. The demons of his past were fierce and ravenous tonight. So was his passion. He plowed into the chilly night, the door thwacking and flinging back at him. “Augh!” He drove his heel into it.
Crack! The hinge popped free. Hung lopsided, slowly dipping forward until the final hinge surrendered. Wood thudded against the hardpacked ground.
He eyed the doors, stricken. Haunted by the look in her eyes, the hurt, betrayal … he realized Brighton was just like that door. Hanging on by a thread, and now his irresponsible actions may have severed the only thread that kept her together.
Chapter
Fourteen
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
“A gentleman should be ashamed when his deeds do not match his words.”
While Mama wasn’t known for profound sayings, she had loved that quote, especially throwing it at Dad when he did something wrong.
Brighton sat curled on the hotel bed, staring at the walls for the third day since Stone reminded her what it was like to be the center of his attention, to be in his arms, experiencing his passion. More than that?—to have his strength encasing her?—and she wasn’t just thinking about those powerful arms and broad chest.
Though, yeah, wow …
It’d been the strength of his character that startled her when they’d first met and rang true and powerful even today. Granted, there was the tiny fact he’d been in bed with her back in Maryland, ready to complete what had been heating up between them for months. But he got that call and left with muttered apologies to answer it.
Hurt, dejected, she’d stared at the door for a good half hour, disbelieving she’d just been ditched. At first she thought it was because he’d figured out what Ladomer planned, but then came his two a.m. call, telling her he wanted to do things right. He wanted to honor her. It’d sounded a lot like commitment talk. She marveled that someone had really seen her, Brighton. Not a client with Lizzy. Or fans with a supermodel. He’d seen brash, broken Brighton.
Eight hours later, Ladomer destroyed everything.
No, you did that.
Stone hated her and that made sense, because so did she. What she had with Stone had been so very different from her clients. Every other intimate experience. He was better, kinder, funnier. And she was too weak to stand up to Ladomer.
That’s why Stone could kiss her like a fool then walk away. Maybe he wanted to punish her the way he’d been punished. She’d deserve that and a heckuva lot more.
But … that kiss the other night … He wouldn’t have kissed her like that if he hated her. Right? That kiss did not match the anger-filled words that said Stone Metcalfe was stone cold toward her. There’d been so much passion as he crushed her to himself. So much urgency wrapped in the hot little moment.
Then he’d ripped the door off the hinges trying to get away from her.
Just as Ladomer had ripped the door off their tête-à-tête and exposed Stone. Brought him down. Shamed him. Disgraced him.
He hadn’t deserved it. Of all the men to get destroyed …
God … Please … help me make this right.
A knock startled her. She swung her legs over, wiping away the tears and rushing to the mirror to make sure she looked fine. As her gaze connected with her reflection, she realized old habits died hard. Ladomer and Finch had always ripped her a new one if she wasn’t in pristine shape when they arrived. She wasn’t allowed to look tired or disheveled. Crying was worse.
Ladomer wasn’t here. But he sure was in her head still.
Another rap yanked her toward the door. She drew in a breath, glanced through the security hole. The guy at the front desk. The one who didn’t like her.
Great.
Plastering on a smile, she opened the door.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’m Oscar, from the front desk. I??—” His mouth snapped shut, dark brown eyes swiftly taking her pulse. “You okay?”
