Page 15 of Mr. Wicked

This was where things got sticky.

A meal would lead to her wanting another.

And another.

And feelings would be trickling in.

I couldn’t have that.

But I also couldn’t imagine never tasting her body again, never watching her beautiful face come.

That thought, that desire, took me completely by surprise.

Still, I chuckled and gave her the response that made me the most comfortable. “No. No breakfast.”

That wasn’t true. I’d be eating my weight in doughnuts once Holden arrived at work.

“How about dinner, then?”

She wasn’t going to give up.

That meant I had to address the elephant in the room.

I set my phone on the nightstand and reclined in bed. “I don’t do dinner either.”

“You’re telling me you don’t eat?”

“Oh, I eat.” I grazed her chin with the back of my hand. “I just ate you, didn’t I?”

Her cheeks flushed, her grin not even close to fading. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, Jovana.” I analyzed her expression, determining whether I had to tread lightly. I figured she’d appreciate my honesty over a bold-faced lie. “Let me tell you a little something about me.” I folded my arms behind my head. “I work. I travel. I live my life exactly how I want. But I don’t date.”

She searched my eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“This”—I traced the air between us—“will end in the morning. One night, that’s it, nothing more.”

The confusion was gone.

In its place was a look of shock.

And that was confirmed when she shook her head. “You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t bullshit you.”

“Why?” She sat up tall, anger and disgust now building in her eyes. “Is it because I slept with you? Because I didn’t make you take me out for dinner—”

“Let me stop you right there. It’s nothing you’ve done. This is a me thing, not a you thing.”

And that was because I didn’t trust women.

I hadn’t since I was ten years old.

Not after what the only woman in my life—who mattered at that age—had done to me.

I should have been her whole world, but I meant nothing to her.

She completely destroyed me.

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