“What is it with men needing time to think?” I murmur to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Are you done?”
He takes a step closer, trying to close the distance between us. “I still love you, Noia.”
Words that once would have sent my heart soaring, leave me feeling nothing. I study his face—the face I once thought I’dwake up to every morning for the rest of my life—and still feel absolutely nothing.
“Why are you really here, Eric?” I sigh, exhaustion taking over.
His expression shifts, and I catch a glimpse of something else in his eyes. “Your agent mentioned you’ve been having some... difficulties with the new manuscript.”
And there it is. Eric works for my publisher, so either my agent or someone else must have filled him in.
Heads are going to roll.
“So that’s what this is about,” I say, voice tight with anger. “My book. Of course.”
“It’s not just that,” Eric protests, taking another step toward me. “I miss you. We were good together.”
I back up until the edge of the kitchen island presses into my back. “We were never good together. You just liked having a bestselling author on your arm at publishing events.”
His expression darkens. “That’s not fair. I supported your career.”
“Oh, come on! It’s obvious it was all just a business transaction.”
He moves even closer, invading my personal space. “I made a mistake. People make mistakes.”
“Back. Off,” I warn, placing my palm against his chest.
He grabs my wrist. “Noia, please. Just listen to me.”
In the distance, I swear I hear the rumble of a motorcycle engine. My heart leaps with hope, distracting me.
Seizing the opportunity, Eric lunges forward and smashes his mouth against mine.
“Mmph!” I struggle for a moment before I’m able to twist my head away. “Get. Off. Me!”
His hands grip my waist, pinning me against theisland. “Come on, Noia. I know we can fix this,” he insists, trying to recapture my mouth.
Panic floods my brain and I shove hard against his shoulders, but he won’t budge.
“I said no!” I screech, shoving my knee up into his balls.
Just as Eric doubles over with a high-pitched yelp, clutching himself, the front door crashes open with a bang.
FIFTY-THREE
ryder
Fuck my life.
My head is pounding, and my mouth feels like I’ve been chewing on cotton balls all night.
Groaning, I roll over and check my phone. It’s just past noon, and I have three missed calls from Jax and a text from Claire, but nothing from Noia.
A little disappointed and strangely relieved, I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom. My preferred brand of soap and shampoo are sitting in the shower niche and fluffy blue towels hang neatly on the towel bar.
