“I know,” she says snarkily. “Andfine. But stay on your side.”
“Fine.” I mimic her tone, and her cheeks warm once again.
It feels like it takes forever until a chime sounds and the light above the elevator glows, the doors finally opening. She lets out a heavy breath, powerfully striding forward and leading the way inside.
“Are you mad? You seem mad,” I tell her as I follow her in, unable to keep my eyes from drooling over her body.
My God, she is the sexiest, most beautiful, badass woman I’ve ever seen.
“Why would I be mad?” she exclaims, scanning her key card and pressing floor four aggressively over and over until the doors finally close.
Tipping my head side to side, I yawn, stretching my arms up over my head, the bag crinkling like lightning between us. “Because you feel guilty, flirting with me.”
She side-eyes me. “If I were flirting,which I’m not, why would I feel guilty?”
Finally, this is an opening for the nagging question that’s been haunting me. “Maybe because you have Kyle at home.”
She turns toward me, her face twisting with confusion. “What does Kyle have to do with anything?”
What?
“Because you have a boyfriend at home, but you’re giving me fuck-me eyes on the road.”
Her eyes close with annoyance. “First off”—she opens them, and I can’t decide if they’re brewing with anger or something else—“I have never once given youfuck-meeyes. Secondly”—the elevator doors open, but she makes no move to the hallway—“Kyle isn’t my boyfriend.”
The doors start to close, so I stop them. “I’ll walk you to your room while you finish yelling at me.”
She shakes her head, nostrils flaring and hands stiff in front of her, like she’s frozen in thought. “You’re aggravating.”
I snort. “That makes two of us, Rooney. Now tell me who Kyle is before I lose my mind. Please.”
A glimmer flashes in her eyes. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Groaning, I drag my hand down my face. “Why do you insist on toying with me? For a girl claiming to know what she wants, you have a hell of a way of showing it.”
She leads the way down the hallway, and I take the opportunity to get a good view of the girl that’s got me on a leash, practically walking me like a dog. I’d happily be her good boy, obeying every single command for a treat.
God, her body is insane. How the hell is someone even allowed to be that attractive? She’s fit but still has a thickness in her curves that is driving me wild. Her hips, the roundness of her ass … that leads into legs I want wrapped around my hips, my waist, my face …
“Go away, Matt,” she whispers, slowing to a stop outside of her door.
Slapping the key card against the reader, she pushes the unlocked door open. Stepping behind her, I place my hands on the doorframe and peer inside.
What the hell?
“Are those sticky notes?” My thought manifests out loud as my eyes travel over endless sticky notes stuck to the wall.
I’m doing great.
My arm is getting stronger.
I’m a good coach.
I am better off single and focusing on myself.
Well, that’s certainly an interesting one.
Her hand is planted on my chest before I’m able to lean forward and read another letter on the next note.
