“What’s the deal, Gray? Surely you don’t harass every woman you’ve ever slept with with unwanted offers of chivalry?”
“I don’t.”
The simple, rapid fire admission, jolted her. She felt hope lash her, before she could control the impulse. She wasn’t special to him. Sleeping together had meant nothing.
“Then just let me go. Whatever we used to be, we’re nothing to each other now. I’m just a waitress and you’re just…a party guest, like all the other guys up there. Leave me alone.”
He watched her go,frowning. Dissatisfaction was a ripple in his gut, building to a full-blown earthquake.
Leave me alone.
It was definitely not his style to pursue a woman who was giving out a clear vibe that she wasn’t interested.
Except that wasn’t the vibe Abby had given out. He knew her too well to mis-read her signals. She’d been as into him as ever, but she’d pushed him away, determined to ignore his offer of a lift or a drink. She was running away from him, and it didn’t make sense.
He replayed their last evening together, as he had multiple times since their relationship ended. He’d been emphatic and, perhaps, a little cutting, out of a desire to protect her from developing any deep feelings for him. But she hadn’t cried. She hadn’t yelled. She hadn’t thrown things at him. She’d just nodded slowly, said that she ‘understood’, and then she’d left.
She hadn’t fought for their relationship. She hadn’t begged him for more. She’d been the personification of class, so he’d wanted to take back everything he’d said, because obviously there was no need to end their relationship if she was so uninvested.
So why was she acting like this now?
With a dark frown, he strode through the corridor, intending to leave the hotel. He didn’t mean to follow her. She’d made her feelings clear and he wasn’t going to stalk her.
But when he emerged from the staff corridor into a side alley, Abigail was standing there, her arms crossed, eyes locked to the door. It was the last thing he’d expected to see and his heart burst a little with pleasure.
She was truly beautiful, but it was more than that. She was…unique.
“I’m going to cut to the chase,” she said quietly, the words low and soft. “Would a drink, or a lift home, actually be a prelude to something more?”
The idea hadn’t, actually, occurred to him. He’d just wanted to see her and talk to her, to find out what she’d been up to. He thought of her often, wondered about her, so the temptation to understand what her life was like now was too great to ignore. And yet, something more was always there as a possibility.
To his surprise, she uncrossed her arms and started to walk – not away, but towards him, her eyes locked to his, a hint of delirium in her face, as though she was acting against her own better judgement. “Because I’m guessing this is what you actually wanted.”
And before he could respond, she pushed him, one hand against his chest. Strong and far larger, she didn’t move him, but he stepped backwards anyway, because she stepped forwards, her small body crushing to his as she lifted up onto the tips of her toes and kissed him.
Not a chaste kiss either.
This was a kiss that made up for old time’s sake. A kiss that made him want everything he’d ever wanted from her. A kiss that stirred him to life, that made him ache and yearn, a kiss that reached inside his soul.
He was stunned, momentarily, and simply stood, greedily taking her kiss, before instincts kicked to life and he was grabbing hold of her, spinning her around and pinning her to the wall, his body holding her steady as his mouth took over, ravaging her until she was moaning, his hands finding the gap between her sensible shirt and skirt and fanning over bare skin. She was so soft, impossibly smooth, like rose petals on a dewy morning. He caught a curse in the back of his throat.
It was Abby who tore her mouth away, breaking free of him and shoving his chest once more, pushing him away.
“Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to fall into your bed again?”
The anger and vehemence in the question caught him off guard.
“Hey, you kissed me,” he responded, lifting his hands in a universal gesture of surrender.
“To prove a point.”
“And what point’s that? That you want me as much as ever?”
She pushed his chest again. “That you’re an asshole.”
“I don’t get what’s happening. I ran into you at the party, I asked if you want to catch up for a drink, you said no. I’ve offered you a lift, you said ‘no’. At which point, I left it. You’re the one who just threw herself at me. And to what end?”
Even in the dimly lit alley, he could tell her cheeks were flushed. “To prove what a hypocrite you are.”