Page 41 of On The Edge

But other people? Most definitely.

“Sorry,” I say with a tight smile as my body fights my own betrayal. As I force myself to physically take a step back. “I’m here with someone. My date. Uh, keep the drink though.”

Her laugh is sultry and just below the beat of the music. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” She trails her finger down my chest. Everything about her spells trouble, and hell if I don’t want to jump feet first into it.

“She would though.” I lift my chin in the direction of the dance floor and Maddix.

“Here,” the brunette says and slips a hotel room key into my back pocket. “The number’s written on it. I’d love to give you a proper welcome to my country, Mr. Navarro.”

I lean into her, my lips near her ear. Walk away. Walk the fuck away. So I do one better. I push her away to remove the temptation. “It takes a lot more than that to impress me. What’s the fun if there’s no chase? But thanks.”

A sneer replaces her smile. She can be offended all she wants but . . . oh well. And as she stomps away, I pull up the post I made on my socials earlier. Photos from today of Maddix in the flower fields. Of us in the park. Of her looking out the window of the car and the wind blowing in her hair.

Playing the press who always plays me and paints me in the worst light.

Yep, I am the asshole who doesn’t care as I move on from one woman to the next, but for some reason, I care about Maddix. And now because of all this bullshit, I have to abstain from giving in to the urge to use this hotel room key. From another woman.

Because of this deal. This fucking necessary evil.

All she did was give you an office to hide in and a bottle of water. You don’t owe her your firstborn or anything.

And yet . . . I feel bad.

“Navarro.”

I look up to see Maddix walking toward me. A grin is plastered on her face and the tension in her shoulders when we walked in here two hours ago has gone away.

“Having fun?” I ask.

“Cruzy-Cruzy-Cruz,” she coos.

“I take that as a yes.” I chuckle and lift my finger to the bartender for another drink.

“Thank you.” The words are slurred, but it’s the sigh of satisfaction as she leans against the bar top beside me that gets me.

“For?”

“For knowing I needed this.” She hooks her arm through mine. “For knowing I needed to forget for a bit.” She rests her head on my shoulder and the subtle scent of her shampoo hits my nose. “For letting me sow my wild oats.” She tilts her head up so those green eyes of hers meet mine. They are a complicated mess of emotions, and I’m not certain I like how they make me feel.

Happy. Sad. Regretful. All pertaining to the fact that I put her here. In this position.

It’s done. It’s over with. Move the fuck on, Cruz. You being a pussy over this doesn’t change shit.

“Is that what we’re doing, Madds? Sowing our oats?”

“We are.” She giggles and the action has her breasts rubbing against my arm. “Or I am. You’re so done and sowed I think you’ve probably sprouted a garden.”

“God, let’s hope not,” I say but laugh. She’s an adorable drunk.

“So yeah, I’m sowing and for now, I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it.”

“Agreed.”

She stumbles a bit and falls against me to hold tighter and right herself. “Whoopsie.” But when she looks up this time, her face is closer to mine. Her lips are right there. Her tits are brushing against my chest.

Christ.

I’ve been with her nonstop for what feels like forever, so why do I suddenly notice her perfume? Why are there flecks of dark green in the light green of her eyes that I never noticed before? Why are her lips the perfect color of pink, and why do I wonder if they’d get redder if they were kissed?