No fucking bra.
The thin material clings to her as Dane walks over and hands her his suit jacket, and she takes it quickly before wrapping it around her. Several whistles emerge, and I fight real damn hard not to go put my fist through something—or someone.
I really didn’t think this through. Now everyone has had an eyeful of the girl I didn’t want anyone looking at. It was supposed to make everyone point and laugh, embarrass the hell out of her, and send her to her room to pout. It was not supposed to draw every fucking guy’s attention.
“Are you listening to me?” Rain harps, slapping me on the arm.
Her pathetic assault doesn’t even register pain, but I finally curse as I turn back toward her, barely even managing to tear my eyes away from Tria.
“What?” I growl.
She narrows her eyes threateningly, and points her small little finger at me like it’s supposed to be intimidating. “Go apologize. Tria is already on edge anytime she’s around any of you. I swore to her you’d all start treating her better, and here you are pushing her into the pool for no damn reason. She hasn’t said or done anything to you!”
No, she hasn’t. That’s the fucking problem.
I know I’m not imagining the things we did, the sounds she made, or the fact her walls clenched around me countless times. My mouth has touched every part of her body, yet she has gone on as though that night never existed. Does she even know it was me?
She’d better fucking know it was me.
“I’ll go apologize,” I say tightly, planning on getting some answers as well.
r /> That damn girl has my head all screwed up, and I need things to be right again. It doesn’t make sense. None of this.
“Where’d Tria go?” I ask Corbin. Dane might chew me out right now, so I’d rather avoid him for a while.
Corbin snickers while motioning to the rooftop elevator.
“She just headed down. Some guy went with her to make sure she made it to her room safely.”
I’m going to have a brain aneurism.
“What guy?” I snarl, and he tilts his head, confused or amused—I’m not sure which.
“I don’t know him. Why?”
Sucking in a painful breath, I manage to rein in my temper long enough to get through this asinine conversation. “Rain is making me apologize, and I don’t want too many people that know me to witness it.”
It’s a shitty lie, but he buys it, shrugging as I walk toward the elevator. I stab the button over and over until the doors open, and then I press the button for her floor just as furiously.
How can she just walk off with some guy?
The elevator takes its sweet time descending, but after an excruciating twenty seconds, the doors finally open to Tria’s floor. I’m glad no one asked me why I didn’t need to know her room number. I didn’t think about that posing questions.
I only asked the flirty desk clerk what room Tria was in because I wanted to make sure to avoid that room. That’s it. I had no intentions of using such knowledge for any other reason. Nope. No other reason at all.
My palms start sweating like I’m a nervous kid at a middle-school dance the second I reach her door, and I loosen my tie while nervously clearing my throat. Like a fucking idiot, I lean my ear against the door and listen for voices.
It’s quiet, though. No sounds at all.
After shrugging off the unprecedented nerves, I finally summon the necessary courage to knock. The sound of feet shuffling toward the door catches my attention, and then I hear more silence before a few muttered curses behind the door.
I probably should have covered the peephole.
“Go away,” she says.
“I came to apologize. Open the door.” I can’t help but give her my best grin, even though the effect probably isn’t as strong through the distorting lens of the peephole.
“You don’t need me to open the door for that.”