I pull Teagan out of the hotel, her heels clicking wildly on the pavement beneath us. Click, click, click.
The sound echoes in my head like a ticking time bomb. Which makes sense. It’s exactly what it feels like is about ready to burst inside my chest.
Rage? Hot, white fury boiling through me? It can only be jealously, pure and evil, and something I’ve never experienced.
I’ve never once fought over a girl. I’ve never cared enough. Never wanted one enough. When I went to the restroom to search for Teagan when she was taking so long, I never expected to see red flash at the edges of my vision when I caught another man so fucking close to her he could have easily pressed his dick against her stomach and shoved his tongue into her mouth.
Now I’m fuming that all of this is going to explode and I’m going to be left looking like a fool. She’s going to make me look like a fool.
I don’t even know how I’ve given her the power to twist me up and outside in like this, but I hate it. This is why one-night stands are the best inventions. Get your rocks off and get out.
It’s the only way to keep your head in the game. She was supposed to be that for me. Instead, she’s becoming so much more, and none of it makes a lick of a damn sense.
“Slow down,” she huffs, trying to pull her hand out of mine. “Before I do a face-plant. Please, Corbin.” She yanks again and I stop.
Fuck. My lungs are burning, chest heaving.
Does she have any idea what she does to me? How fucking insane I’ve felt for the last week?
She can’t. Not if she can look at her cheating, asshole ex with that look of oh please fuck me now in her eyes.
That kiss we shared earlier lit a fuse and it’s too late to put it out. Touching her throughout dinner, my hand on her shoulder, the silkiness of her hair—I’ve been sporting a hard-on for hours. For a moment at dinner, when she turned and laughed at some story Caitlin was sharing, I’d seen that same look in her eyes I knew was in mine.
For a brief moment, I hoped. Hoped that maybe since we have to spend two years together, we could see if we actually have something real between us.
Seeing her give that fucking asshole the same exact look shot that hope to shit.
Now I’m pissed. At myself, at Teagan and the taste of her mouth I now know is better than what I’d imagined.
But it’s all an act, all one big fucking act for her.
“I had no idea he was going to be here,” Teagan says. She’s breathless, panting, and again I’m a dick. There’s no reason to haul her out of the hotel like it’s on fire.
“I know.” My jaw aches from grinding my teeth together. “Bet you didn’t know he was fucking the boss’s daughter, either, did you?”
“Well, no, not until I saw them together.”
“Did it hurt?”
A line pops between her eyes and she tilts her head to the side. “What?”
“Did it hurt?” I point my finger in the direction of the hotel. “Did it hurt to see him with her? Does it hurt you to know he was all over you and I’m guessing is trying to find a way to get you back? Did that hurt, Teagan?”
“I was with him for almost seven years. Of course seeing all of that hurt.”
Of course.
I drop her hand and pull out my phone, texting the driver to bring the car. She walks up next to me and touches my forearm.
I pull away. Fuck this. Keep it business, keep her at a distance.
“Did you think I was going to go back to him? Because he trapped me outside a bathroom and apologized?”
“I don’t know anything about you, Teagan.” I slide my phone into my coat pocket and cross my arms over my chest, staring out at the dark night. The hotel across the street. At nothing. “But you need to be more careful. One photo of you seen with another man after you’ve been photographed with me will throw the gossip mill into overdrive.”
The car pulls up and Gabe, my driver, steps out, moving to the back passenger door. As soon as it’s opened, Teagan steps forward, glaring at me as she passes.
“Thanks for being an even bigger asshole than Drake. Helps me remember that when you’re nice, it’s all one big act you’re putting on. Reminds me of our agreement and my place in your life.”
She slides into the car, disappearing, and I stand on the sidewalk too damn long, until Gabe calls my name.
I shove my hands through my hair and groan toward the heavens.
Fuck.
Car ride from hell. An elevator ride to the twenty-sixth floor even worse.
I’ve already apologized for being a jerk to her more than once tonight. Right now there’s no way she’s going to believe another one.
She’s made her point, and she’s not wrong in any of it. I’ve been manic at best when it comes to Teagan.
Completely psychotic at worst.
I find her in my kitchen, slamming doors open and closed on a clear hunt for something.
Hopefully not a large, sharp knife.
“Where’s your alcohol? Tequila preferably. Anything but that scotch stuff you drink.”
I walk around where she’s crouched in the corner, digging through my pots and pans cupboard, keeping my laughter to myself. Why the hell would I hide alcohol behind stockpots?
“It’s all in here.” I have the butler pantry cupboards open as she stands, wiping her hands down her dress. Spectacular. Jesus. My jaw tightens at the sight of her walking closer to me, eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Her hips, her breasts, all in a tall and luscious package. I want to unwrap her like a treasured present, splay her out on my bed, and discover every hidden inch of her. Although I’d prefer to do it all when I’m not worried about her slicing off my dick. The glare she shoots me tells me she’s at least considered it.
She skirts around me, reaching for a glass and filling it with ice before returning. I pull down two different bottles of tequila.
“Did you buy all this?” she asks, looking at the fully stocked bar.
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Of course,” she mutters, her voice slightly petulant. “Which one’s the most expensive?”
“The Gran Patrón was a few hundred, the 1800 a couple grand.”
I expect her to reach for the Patrón but she doesn’t. Grabbing the 1800, she dumps it into her glass, filling it to the brim.
I laugh softly. She wants to get wasted on my good shit to get back at me for being a jerk? Have at it. Instead of joining her, even though getting wasted after tonight sounds like a fantastic idea, I move to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. Someone should be sober when she gets drunk.
When I look back at Teagan, she’s sitting at the bar, both hands wrapped around her now half-emptied glass of tequila, her face scrunched up.
“Is my good stuff not good enough for you?” I’m unable to resist teasing her despite the murderous look she flashes me.
She tosses back another large swallow, hiding a cough she clearly wants to let loose.
“Teagan—”
She cuts me off by lifting her hand and takes another drink. “I don’t need more apologies from you. I’ve heard enough.”
“Just let me—”
“What? Explain? How many men do I have to listen to explain why they decide it’s okay to treat me like crap?”
Shit. I haven’t thought of it like that.
I pull my phone out of my jacket, which I take off, loosening the tie at my neck. Giving her the silence she wants, and unable to fix it because I have treated her like crap with no good excuse, I check my phone, flipping through emails. Shit. I’m going to have to head back out to Cannon Bluffs to get to work.
“I loved him,” she says, startling me.
Her first glass is emptied and refilled and she spins it around in a circle. Already her cheeks and the tip of her nose are pink, showing the alcohol is hitting her system.
“Loved him with everything I had. Dropped out of school to follow his dreams, gave him literally everything I had to help him, knowing in the end it’d be worth it because we would make both of our dreams come true if I waited long enough.”
Her voice is sad. Tears pool in her eyes and she shakes her head. Another large swallow of her drink and she’s no longer flinching.
Yeah, she’s getting drunk. If she wasn’t, no way would she be rambling to me.
“What’d you give him?”
Sad brown eyes flick to me and back to her glass. “You know, my grandma used to tell me when you give your body to a man, be sure to keep your heart safe. A man will take care of your body, but it’s the rare one who will care for your heart.”
The slick, greasy feel of oil slides through me. In the last week, we’ve talked about where she grew up in Tennessee, and she’s always mentioned her grandma, never her parents, except to say they died. I stick on that thought and not what she’s just implied—that her heart belongs to another man.
I eye the tequila. Getting trashed sounds like a better idea by the second. Anything to wash away the sludge taste in my gut.
“So, yeah, Corbin,” she continues, still playing with her glass. “I loved him. Still do, but it’s been a week since I found him with that…Missy. Doesn’t mean I don’t know I’m worth more than that, just means the pain is still fresh.”
And I’m now a larger asshole than Drake. Of course she’d still feel that pain. Me and my dick wanting her to be mine and jumping to the wrong conclusions have made this night worse than it should have been.
“You never mention your parents,” I say to change the subject.
“They’re dead, Corbin.” She takes another chug of tequila and I’m batting negative gazillion for the night.
“Teagan—”
“When I was twelve. Car accident. Grandma took me in and raised me on her farm. I barely knew her before I went to live with her. She wasn’t the most emotional woman or the kindest; not cold, but not overly affectionate. She and my mom were never really close. There’s no big family drama there, and I liked being with her, with her horses. Plus, she was wise. She took care of me.” Finally, her eyes lift to mine, and in them there’s nothing but pain and drunkenness. “She died when I was twenty. Gave me her farm, and I sold it to pay for school knowing I didn’t want to settle there. Then I used the rest to help pay for Drake’s med school.”
A cold laugh.
Another chug.
“I should have followed grandma’s advice and been smarter.”
The bottle in my hand crunches, water splashes onto the floor, and I do nothing to clean it.
My legs take me to Teagan before my head can tell me to stop, to be safe and give her space, but I can’t.
“You’re not stupid, Teagan.” I’m standing next to her, but she doesn’t look at me. Stares at her tequila glass like it’s the only important thing in the room. Perhaps it is. I certainly haven’t shown her that her heart is safe with me. Haven’t shown her I want it to be, either. “Giving your heart to a man who ends up not deserving it doesn’t make you stupid, it makes you brave to take the risk in the first place. If you know you’re worth more than him, tell me why when I first saw you two together, it looked like you still loved him. Still want him.”
She laughs quietly. Barely a whisper of a sound and she shakes her head. The movement makes her hair fall, hiding her face from me, and that won’t do. She wears her emotions clear as day all over her face.
I brush her silky hair back, tucking a thick chunk behind her ear. A deeper blush darkens her cheeks and I run my knuckles over it, her skin hot and flush. Warm and tempting.
I’m asking her about another man and all I want to do is kiss her.
I am so screwed.
“I wasn’t thinking about him,” she whispers. Her words are starting to slur, but she continues. “Was thinking about you.”
My hand falls to her chin and I tilt her so she’s looking at me. So drunk, lids half open, that if she drinks any more tequila she’s going to be swimming in it. “I was thinking about our kiss in the car and how much I wanted more of it.”
My brain shouts danger danger danger! My dick hardens, pushes against my zipper. He’s giving me the go sign, and as smart as I am, following my dick will be a mistake.
Doesn’t matter.
“Corbin,” she whispers.
I take it as a plea. I pull her to her feet, catching her as she sways.
I want to kiss her. Take care of her. Her body and her heart. Show her that I’m not the asshole I’ve been so far. Prove to her exactly how much she deserves better than Drake. I want to erase his memory from her so she never feels another stab of pain from anyone.
“I’m going to kiss you,” I whisper. My hand slides to the side of her throat. Her pulse is wild, fluttering against my palm.
Her lips part.
Acceptance.
I lean closer, tequila wafting off her breath like the most delicious distillery.
Then she jolts.
Her eyes flicker and she turns as green as her dress.
Oh crap.
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
And she does, all over the floor and my feet.