“Don’t,” I interrupt, sighing. “Please don’t. You don’t owe me any explanations. I showed up at your office unannounced. She didn’t see me. I didn’t think... It was stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t have to come over here and explain.”
I’ve never felt so pathetic.
He frowns as he comes to sit beside me. I wish he’d just leave.
“Brin, I don’t have a thing for Jessica. She works for me. That’s it.”
I just laugh bitterly. “Rye, go. I don’t even know why you’re here. Well, I do actually. You feel bad because you kissed me and then ran away. Then I got to witness a girl more your type go for gold in your office. You’re decent enough to feel bad about it, but you don’t have to. In fact, I’d like it if you’d just stop.”
“Brin, I—”
“Stop saying my name. Stop coming over here. Stop playing the pranks.” I stand up, turn my back on him, and ignore the fever going on behind my eyes. I will not cry. “Before you started sending me mixed signals, I felt just fine with the way I am. I don’t have to look like I just stepped off the runway in order to be happy. I don’t have to deal with the sleaze balls who are just looking for sex, because I’m not the one-night stand of their dreams. I’m perfectly happy. Or I was.
“You... you’re messing with my head, and that’s not okay. I don’t like someone making me feel as though I’m not good enough. I want to be appreciated the way I am. I know what I want, and games aren’t involved. So please go. I’ll crown you king of the war by default. You win. Consider us even.”
The first tear falls, and I silently curse it. I’ve never wanted to be one of the Sterling Shore perfect women until him. And I don’t like hating myself.
“You’re taking all of this out of context, Brin. I... Fuck!” he yells, slapping something.
I turn around to face him, but he’s suddenly right there, and just like last night, his lips are on mine, surprising me with an attack that I wasn’t prepared for. Instinctively, my fingers thread through hair instead of shoving him back like I need to do.
He pulls me tightly against his body, even though he has to bend over to kiss me. When his tongue sweeps in, I either whimper or moan—possibly both. A noise escapes him that almost sounds feral, and the kiss becomes even hungrier.
Why am I doing this to myself?
We fall to the couch, and I’m straddling him before my brain can process the shift. His hands are all over me—my back, my neck, my hair, back down to my ass. We’re a mess of pants, moans, wild hands, and ravenous needs.
But I stupidly want to do more than what we can do on this couch—with Maggie home. I also want him to stop before my heart gets tripped up and shattered.
“Rye,” I mumble against his lips, trying to catch my air and my sanity.
“Please don’t get even with me right now,” he says, his lips moving down to my neck.
Oh damn. I’ve never felt lips so demanding—hard and soft at the same time. I want to live in this torture for as long as I can.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to push him away, but pulling him closer instead as I gyrate my hips.
He growls, and I move again, doing what I can to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me.
“I mean don’t stop this to get even with me for last night. Let’s call a truce for the night.”
I’m torn between smiling and swearing. I’m past the point of confused.
“You want a truce?” I ask breathlessly, curling to him as he continues that divine trail of kisses, dragging his lips across my collarbone on his way down my chest.
“I want a lot of things right now, but we’ll start with a truce.”
I’m fairly certain my heart has stopped beating or else it is racing too fast to be felt.
“Okay,” I say like a crazy girl who is begging to be broken.
He stands with me still wrapped around him, and I’m almost positive he’s going to put me down and leave me hanging. Again. So I do what any sane, rational person would do—I clamp my legs around his waist so tightly that they’d need the Jaws of Life to undo me.
Yep. Problem solved.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he starts walking, but his lips refuse to part from mine for long, and he returns to the hungry kiss without answering.
Not that I’m complaining.