“No. You. Your letter. Broke me.” Watching her, I trail my thumb along her throat and jaw, and then I watch as I trace her pink mouth, the only mouth I want. “What does it matter if I had to kiss a thousand lips to forget these?”
We hear a knock. I don’t move.
My body is tight and ready to claim hers. She’s my mate, and I want her to fucking tell me she’s jealous because I’m hers, and she’s mine, and that’s the end of it.
Then I want her to take me inside, I want to pound her hard and fill her with me.
But she doesn’t speak. My stubborn little minx doesn’t speak.
Letting her cool down, I open the door, tip the bellman, and pull in the suitcases on my own as fast as I can, one of my arms shooting out to stop her when she walks past me. “Come here, settle down now,” I command.
But she pushes my hand away, then steps out and says to the bellman, “Thank you. Would you send this duffel with that other suitcase to the other room?” she says, pointing at her suitcase.
Nodding, the guy pushes the cart back toward the elevators.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
She turns around and looks at me, breathing slowly, looking at me with wide, pained eyes. “I want to sleep with Diane tonight. I don’t feel so well and I’d rather we talk about it when I . . . when I . . . am settled down.”
I burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious.”
My laughter dies when she boards the elevator.
I stand there. My heart pounding for me to chase. But I’m too disbelieving to move.
The elevator closes.
And yes.
My woman. Just fucking boarded. That shit elevator. And left me here!
I grab my suitcase and toss it across the room with a yell, then I slam the door behind me and go kick the shit out of it.
“FUUCK!” Then I kick the pillow that is still on the floor, clamp my jaw and call Pete so he can give me Diane’s fucking room number.
When he answers, and I speak, I sound murderous. “Diane’s fucking room number.”
“Wh-whaaat? Shit, Rem, Riley told me about the argument . . . please just count to fucking a hundred before you do anything,” Pete says.
“The room. Now.”
“Two–four–three–eight.”
I slam the phone down and silently does as he says and count to a hundred.
I’ve got the phone in my hand by number 98, and by 99, I got my fucking finger on the numbers. I finally pound the keys, and when Diane’s voice answers I very softly, and very angrily growl, “I’m going down there for Brooke, so you can either open the door for me, or I can break it down. Your choice.”
I slam the phone and stop at the door, telling myself to breathe.
But I can barely pull the air into my lungs I’m so agitated at the thought of not sleeping with her. I’m agitated remembering she left me. She could leave me. Any. Fucking. Day. Again. Until I win this championship and make her marry me.
I’m so ready to make her my wife, my body preps me as if for a physical fight, and I’m ready to hunt and capture her. I squeeze my knuckles and focus on my breath as I head two floors down, and the instant I reach the door, Diane opens it.
Shit, but I think I wanted to break that fucking door!
“Diane,” I greet her, then I head straight for Brooke. She’s curled in a fucking ball, crying on that bed, and all my anger and frustration arrows to stiffen my cock up instantly.
Because more than jealous, more than possessive, she’s hurt.
And my body seems to think the way to make it better is to turn those sobs into moans.
God, I need to fuck her and get fucking close to her. I need to kiss her and pet her.
I need her. In. My. Room. My Bed. And my body in her.
“You,” I quietly tell her, opening my hand. “Come with me.”
“I don’t want to.” She wipes a tear.
Breathing through my nose, I try to stay calm, telling her, “You’re mine and you need me, and I want you to please come the fuck upstairs with me.”
She sniffles.
“All right, come here.” Grabbing her by the hips, I swing her up in my arms. “Good night, Diane.”
She kicks and struggles, but I clench my hold on her to still her, bending to whisper to her, “Kick and claw all you like. Scream. Hit me. Curse the fuck out of me. You won’t sleep anywhere but with me tonight.”
She’s silently angry as I head to our room, but I’m fucking angrier that she had the fucking balls to try and leave me if only for half a moment. I don’t even know why we’re fighting about this. I was amused by her jealousy, but I’m not amused anymore. I need to be inside her, and I need it now. One touch and she’ll fucking know she’s every woman to me.