Page 66 of Over the Limit

But that doesn’t make me seeing the two of them together any easier.

And they are just that—together. All afternoon long. Chatting with other guests. Eating food. Riding jet skis. Spending time together.

What do I get? The woman who has been waiting fourteen days to break a bad habit?

Nothing. Not a glimpse. Not a second glance. Not a fucking nothing. Is this Rossi 2.0? How many years did I sit back and watch Rossi flirt with other women? Doing so while I was in the same damn room? Acting as though I truly never really had him?

But that feeling I had when Rossi would flirt? It’s ten times worse watching Lachlan do it and that tells me something very significant.

This is crazy. I’ve only really been interested in him a month or so, but damn if my heart doesn’t already know what it wants. Him.

So why is he here with her? Why do I feel like I don’t exist?

“You sure you can’t stay for dinner?” Monica asks.

If I have to listen to Zola giggle like an air-headed ditz, and watch her put her hand on Lachlan one more time, I might tear my eyes out.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I already made other plans.”

“That’s your first mistake,” she says and winks. “When I throw a party, you never make plans for afterwards because we always like to see where the night takes us.”

“Noted for next time.”

“I’ll have the captain call for the water taxi for you then.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m going to head toward the restroom before it arrives.”

“Perfect.”

I set my empty champagne flute on the tray of a passing server and head down the maze of hallways toward the restroom.

I’m halfway to it when I’m pushed in a stateroom. I bite back my yelp as Lachlan puts his hand over my mouth to quiet me. But the minute he shuts the door at his back, I jerk my head back and forth to rid his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” I grit out.

His flash of a grin does nothing to abate my festering anger. “Now that, I can’t do.”

His lips find mine. It’s a kiss full of need and greed and fucking hunger and peppermint. One I want to fall so deep into I can’t see my way out. One I’ve craved and relived over the past fourteen days but fuck if my fury doesn’t override my desire.

I tear my mouth from his—my body hating me, my mind needing to.

“A dinner date? Zola? I can’t even get a fucking response from a text to you and you’re out schmoozing with her?”

“You’re jealous.” His smirk infuriates me.

“You’re damn right I am.” I push against his chest but there’s no give. The space is small and he is strong. “She’s a fucking goddess.”

“Blair.” He laughs my name out like I’m being a ridiculous child and it only infuriates me more.

“You say you’re different, but you’re proving to be just like Rossi.” My rebuke is sharp and fueled out of the jealousy and desire clouding every facet of my being.

“You don’t mean that.” He dips his head to meet my eyes.

“I do,” I lie.

“Fine.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Then I have my answer.”

And just like that he drops his hands from me and reaches for the door to walk out. I yank him back toward me so our bodies land squarely against one another’s. The feel of him. Jesus. It’s heaven and hell and every slice of debauchery in between.