This could go one of two ways. He wanted to tell me this thing between us had been a mistake, that he shouldn’t have slept with me, and we needed to end it before things got tangled. Too late. I’d been tangled with Micah far longer than a few weeks. This was the very worst thing he could say to me. Themistakeexcuse was nearly as bad as being a standby girl. Mads Clarke would never be someone’s regret either. This was all my head messing with me. It never failed—when something good was going on in my life, my brain immediately went to worst-case scenario. Every time. It was annoying.
The other outcome: he wanted to hook up.
I was going with the latter.
I’ll think about it,I responded.
The only thing you’re thinking about is me.
He hadn’t been wrong about that. Micah invaded my thoughts more than he should.
My fingers carefully turned the knob, and I pushed the door open slightly. A stream of light from the hallway hit the floor as I peeked inside, but it was the soft moan of pleasure that had me halting before going any farther into the obviously occupied room. I winced, having every intention to back out of the room before anyone noticed I had intruded. But my eyes had other plans. They lifted, a jab of curiosity forcing them to glance at the bed.
Only I wished I hadn’t.
I blinked, certain that bleached-blond head of hair nuzzling on some girl's neck couldn’t possibly be…
My entire body leaned forward to get a better view, the door squeaking with my movements, no longer caring what I was interrupting or that the guy on top of the girl was shirtless.
I knew that ass, was damn familiar with the tattoo covering his right shoulder, the dragon curling around to cover his front pec. Just days ago, I had been tracing that scaled tail with my fingertips.
My head shook, my lips mouthing, “No.”
I must have done more than just mouth the word, because the guy fondling the girl’s tits turned his head toward the door.
I gasped, not certain how I even found the air to do so.
The room spun.
My earlier excitement dropped into horror, dread, and gut-twisting pain.
Motherfucker.
Micah Bradford stared wide-eyed at me with those killer light blues, beads of sweat gathering on his brow, where his messy hairline began. Not that long ago, my fingers had been twisted into his hair.
Fuck. I wanted to kill him. My bewilderment and confusion swiftly turned into outrage and red-hot anger.
I flung the door wide open, not giving a rat’s ass who saw the well-on-their-way-to-being-completely-naked couple. I didn’t care a single bit for the girl’s privacy or her reputation. She was insignificant. Just another one of Micah’s conquests.
Was that what I’d been to him?
Another fucking notch on his belt?
Screw him.
“You fucking prick,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. My knuckles went white as I gripped the door.
“Mads?” Micah murmured, the haze of desire clearing from his eyes, replaced with confusion.
I could tell by looking at him that he’d been drinking, but that was no excuse in my book. “How the hell could you? I let you fuck me,” I shrilled. “God, I think I’m going to be sick.” My hand moved to clutch my stomach.
“It’s not what you think,” he defended, not even bothering to cover himself, too comfortable in his own skin.
“Really,” I snapped sarcastically. “Let me guess. Your clothes just accidentally fell off, and your dick landed inside her. Spare me the excuses.”
The girl under him squirmed uncomfortably, pushing at his chest for him to let her up. He ignored her, not sparing her a flicker of a glance. However, he shoved himself off her, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
Did the corner of his lips actually move into a smirk? Did he find this situation funny? What I said hadn’t been a joke.