Instead, he holds out a familiar scrap of pale-pink fabric that I had been determined to pretend had fallen into a conveniently placed black hole so its absence would not hauntme.
“Fuck.”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “You left these in the bathroom a few weeks ago.”
Double fuck.Glad that it’s dark so that he doesn’t see the embarrassment all over my face, I mumble, “Thanks,” and almost slam his fingers in the door, I shut it so hard.
Kissing Salinger was about as horrible a mistake as going to that singles mixer and giving Jaxon my number.
One thing’s for sure, I amneverletting this happen again.
28
SALINGER
It’s bad enough that I’d held on to the panties and stashed them in a crack on the underside of the bed frame, like I was still some dick-headed teenager. But in the evenings after work, I would take them out of the hiding place and run my fingers over the seams, memorizing the little lips of lace and the small bow.
After several stern lectures to myself and with a metaphorical gun to my head, I finally washed them, the first load of laundry I’d done in years.
I should have just thrown them away, pretended I knew nothing about them. Now, they were nestled between her legs, like I wish my mouth could be.
I crossed a line. I kissed my assistant, after swearing she was safe in my house. Clearly, I was lying to her and myself. This is why I don’t date and instead just use women as a stepping stone to money, power, and connections.
Now? I don’t want to use her for anything… well, anything business-related. I definitely want to use her—and let her use me.
Maybe I’m just leveling up to my next iteration of unconscionable villain and taking advantage of a vulnerable woman. Because that’s what Mandy is—vulnerable, terrified. She hasn’t been sleeping, so she’s clearly not thinking straight.
I pace there in front of her room for too long.
She came looking for me. She wants me.
How can I be expected to stay away when she stares at me with those big brown eyes, needing me to protect her? And it’s not my imagination or wish fulfillment. She needs me. Mandy feels safe with me. It’s obvious as soon as she’s safe in my car or my home or just around me—I can see her visibly relax, let her guard down.
It’s intoxicating, this power I have over her.
Which is why I need to stay away from Mandy. I’m a terrible man, and she already has enough of that in her life.
I’m finishingmy workout when the concierge knocks on the front door.
He grins.
I scowl. “Seward.”
“Special delivery!” He hands me a shopping bag from a high-end store along with a paper cup of coffee from the café next door—which only seems to be open by appointment—along with a paper sack containing an oversized jam-filled croissant. “I ate yours already.”
I snort.
“Did you a favor. I know you’re trying to watch your figure.” Seward pats his stomach.
I take the bag with a “Thanks,” set it on the kitchen counter, and towel off my face. Inside the bag are the clothes I requested for Mandy. No undergarments—that felt too wrong.
Pepper is scratching on the other side of the guest-room door when I pad down the hall, still in my bare feet and workout clothes.
I knock softly.
No answer.
More whining from Pepper.
