Why I bother is beyond me.
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she says, pulling the jacket off.
I expected that much. What I didn’t expect is the speed at which her attitude makes me snap. I grip both sides of the jacket, yank her forward and zip her up in one hard tug.
“I don’t give a fuck howfineyou are, Winter. It’s cold. Your dress is practically a belt and the last thing I need is you catching a cold. I bet you’redelightfulwhen you’re unwell.”
Her eyes widen, lips part, but words—thankfully—don’t come. I wouldn’t be held responsible for my actions if she’d started arguing again.
“Call me if anything seems out of sorts,” I tell Carrick, who takes the wheel again, the engine idling to keep the inside warm.
He’ll stay out here all night as an added security layer at Hailey’s insistence.
Since Bianca’s arms are trapped inside the jacket and she’s a touch unstable on her four-inch heels, I rest my hand on the small of her back, leading her toward the entrance.
Her unvoiced protests bounce around my head.
I’m fine.
I can manage.
Of course she can.
Looks like she can also keep her mouth shut—which comes as a surprise—while I guide her into the elevator. She leans against the wall, watching my every move. Her usual hardness is gone, head tilted, intrigued.
Holding her tongue, she stares, a battle raging inside her mind if the look on her flushed face is any indication. Her burgundy lipstick remains perfectly intact, not a smudge in sight.
The rush of relief sweeping over me is a mystery until I realize it’s because her perfect lipstick means she didn’t kiss theblonde guy. Good for him. He’d regret tasting her faster than he could form a coherent thought.
We arrive on the seventeenth floor and thedingbrings Bianca back to the here and now. Her eyes regain focus as she shunts away from the wall, hands trapped inside my jacket.
I expected she’d shoulder past me with a huff, but she patiently waits while I unlock the door, letting her inside. I’ve lived here almost a year, but tonight’s the first time I’ve seen a pair of women’s shoes in the hallway. Once Bianca’s kicked her sharp stilettos off, they create a strangely comforting picture.
“Could you unzip me?” She asks the question carefully, soft, stripped of any malice.
I spin around, catching a ghost of a smile gracing her face. “Sure. Come here.”
She steps forward, the scent of coconut mixing with a sweet perfume—a new addition to her scent. One that has an even more powerful brainwashing effect. I take more care sliding the jacket’s zipper down than I did yanking it up.
“Thanks,” she utters, passing it over.
She’s blushing, the alluring pinkness spreading down her cleavage. It holds my attention until she turns on her bare foot, sauntering further inside my condo. Her hips sway in the most delicious way and that velvet dress rolls up an inch or two.
I’m transfixed.
My cock twitches in my pants. My grip tightens on the jacket. It seems that as soon as her cold, bitchy exterior melts, I’m powerless to resist her magnetic charm.
She’s been driving me nuts all evening, but not ripping her clothes off was easier when we were surrounded by people.
I dismiss the thought, following in her footsteps. She’s made herself comfortable on the kitchen island, her feet dangling in the air, eyes on mine as soon as I round the corner.
“Could I have a glass of wine?” she asks, watching me fetch a bottle of whiskey.
I had two drinks atScarlett, though hardly put a dent in the second by the time we left. Enjoying the evening was out of the question while my focus narrowed to the men ogling her like sex on a stick.
I need something alcoholic. Something strong that’ll take the edge off my agitated mind. A glass of the amber, burning liquid will do, though I deserve a dozen, if only for not knocking out every man who mentally undressed Bianca tonight.
Glancing over my shoulder, I scan her from head to toe. She doesn’t look drunk. Not even tipsy. She had two glasses of white with Hailey, but they were both watering the alcohol down with lemonade. White wine spritzer, I believe it’s called.
