Page 34 of Last Resort

Hell, if I’m going to be accused of being the black sheep, I might as well earn the title.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sutton

“Distance is good,” I mutter to myself as I pull on my camisole. “Space is good.” Then slip on my flimsy sleep shorts. “Not looking at him or studying his hands or smelling his cologne is even better.”

Because that was hard enough tonight.

I glance up to see my reflection in the floor-length mirror opposite my bed. My dark brown hair is piled on top of my head in a messy bun and my face is newly scrubbed of my makeup. “You sound crazy, Sutt.” Batshit crazy to be exact.

But the arrogant, sexy man is under my skin, and it doesn’t appear he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The solution? Some more wine—definitely—and getting lost in a million more reports until my brain is so tired, I have no option other than to fall asleep without a thought of one Callahan Sharpe. Hopefully.

I open my bedroom door and head out to do just that, my thoughts on how I need to book a mani-pedi at the resort’s spa on my next free time to check out the facilities, when I look up. “Fuck.”

And that one, startled word is met with the quirk of a lone eyebrow of one Callahan Sharpe. He is sitting in a chair that’s facing my bedroom door in the common area of the villa, legs spread casually, elbow on one of its arms with a glass of what I can presume is whiskey in his hand. He still has his dark slacks on from earlier and his dress shirt is now open another button at the neck.

But it’s the look on his face that owns my attention. Intense. A little dangerous. Focused.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in? Callahan—”

“I own the resort.” He holds the key card up in his other hand, stare unwavering. “I have access to any room I want.”

I should be unnerved by the comment . . . but dare I say I’m a little turned on by it? Or maybe it’s just him in general that turns me on. Regardless, he’s here in my villa, dominating the decent-sized space with his presence when I’m trying desperately not to be affected by him.

“And you chose to use that all-access power to come to my room.”

His shrug reeks of arrogance. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Why?”

His eyes flicker down to my breasts beneath my tank top, take in my nipples pressed against the white, flimsy fabric, and then come back up to meet mine. “Because I’m a masochist.”

“Clearly,” I say nonchalantly and move toward my glass of wine on the counter. A drink is in order, for certain. “But you’ve already made your case with all of the things you did and didn’t say tonight.”

He takes a sip himself, his gaze moving to the glass in his hand. “And what exactly did I say?” Amber eyes meet mine and challenge.

“You know what? Never mind.” I take a step back and give a soft chuckle knowing this is dangerous territory. Apparently, everything is when it comes to him. “Let’s ignore the meeting tonight. What happened between us the other night. Just everything. I think we’ll be better off for it if we do.”

“You’re a hard one to ignore, Collins.” His eyes all but fuck me.

“It’s Sutton.”

“Whatever you say, Collins.” He gives a ghost of a crooked smile. “Just one question though. How many times have you replayed that night in your mind? Did you slide your hand between your thighs when you did? Did you pretend it was me?” He shifts in his chair to adjust the hardening bulge between his thighs.

A glance is all I’ll give him, even though the simple thought has my own body reacting.

“You didn’t want me to know you were Johnnie. Him. That says enough for me to know how and what you thought of me.”

“How and what I thought of you?” He gives a subtle nod. “We met at a club. We had rather incredible sex afterwards. Sex we both wanted. I wasn’t aware there were whispered promises for more that I wasn’t fulfilling.”

I open my mouth to speak and then hesitate because everything he’s saying is true. That doesn’t mean he didn’t have to be courteous. And honestly? I’m edging for a fight, for something, for anything to abate the sexual tension vibrating around us.

“You could have called so that we walked into this partnership on solid footing. You holding all the cards like I was some game to you was a dick move.”

“The fact that you couldn’t remember who you slept with isn’t my problem.”