And as I think it, I know this is what he’s talking about. The second night is supposed to make me think he’s changed, and I’ve melted his heart. Messy, messy trouble…
It won’t be me.
His lips trace down my temple to the side of my cheek. “Go to sleep. I want to fuck you again before dawn. I want to fuck you until I don’t feel this way anymore.”
My brow furrows. “How do you feel?”
His eyes are heavy, and my arm is around his waist as we stagger to the California king bed. Crawling beneath the sheets, he reaches out and wraps a strong arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.
“I feel like the Beast.” The sound of sleep is in his voice, and I thread my fingers with his.
Maybe I’m taking advantage of him, doing the things I want to do with him sober while he’s slightly drunk. I don’t care. I kiss his hand and pretend he’s not an asshole. I pretend he’s my boyfriend, and we fall asleep in our luxury suite with our bodies entwined like this every night, together, safe in each other’s arms.
I exhale a sigh at this ridiculously rich, ridiculously arrogant man. He’s cruel to taunt me with a peek inside his walls, but he’s wrong if he thinks I’m like every other woman he’s ever known.
I do have a brain to match his, and if he thinks he’s got me, he’s so wrong.
Lifting his hand, I press my lips to his knuckles wishing it wasn’t this way. I wish it was easy, but when did easy ever lead anyw
here good?
I slide my hand along that mysterious scar he guards so closely. His eyes are closed, and a dark lock has fallen over his brow. His lips are relaxed, and all the anger has momentarily subsided. He’s gorgeous.
“You’re safe with me, you know?” Exhaling a little sigh, I trace the hair off his eye. “No, you don’t know.”
I kiss him softly before closing my eyes and falling fast asleep.
* * *
“I’ve barely seen you all week.” My mother has a pot of coffee ready when I push through her door at 5:30 a.m.
“What the heck are you doing up so early?” My heart is in my throat. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Language, Joselyn.” She eyes me as if I didn’t learn all my swear words from her. “Why are you doing the walk of shame? Didn’t Daisy get you a room at the hotel?”
“I told her not to.”
“So where have you been all night?”
“Sleeping with a random hot guy, of course. What do you think?”
She snorts a laugh over her coffee, and I love my mom. She’s the witch who taught me to be the witch I am now.
Translation: She taught me that society brands women it can’t control as witches. Or some other derogatory term. She also taught me to give that bullshit the big, fat middle finger.
“I love him, Ma.” My eyes are on the table, and I want to cry. “God, I’m so stupid.”
“Whoa, hang on right there.” She lifts the mug and takes another, bigger gulp. “That’s a lot of information to drop on somebody out of the blue at five in the morning.”
“It’s closer to six.” Blinking fast, I pour myself a mug of java and sit across from her, giving it a dollop of cream.
“Either way, start at the beginning. Who is this guy?”
“He works with Daisy.” Shaking my head, I roll my watery eyes. “God, he’s such an asshole. He’s gorgeous and rich and he has the perfect body, and he is the worst.”
“And he’s already making you cry?”
“I’m making myself cry.” I huff a laugh, touching my eyes. “He’s been nothing but straight with me. He has a rule. He never sleeps with the same woman twice. Want to know why?” Her eyebrow arches, and I know I don’t even have to ask. “Because as soon as he sleeps with a woman twice, he says she thinks her, quote, ‘magic pussy,’ end quote, has changed him and he’s going to leave behind his wicked ways out of love for her.”