Page 112 of Forget Me Not

By the final night, I know what he’s doing. And I don’t like it.

So, when he arrives at the cottage, I decide to play a game of my own. I dress in the shorts I know he likes—the ones I wore that night on the boat. I pair it with the same strappy top I wore when I asked him to dance at the bar. The first night he touched me.

When he steps through the front door, he watches me, eyes hot as they travel up from the new blue polish on my toes, all the way up to my eyes, burning my skin in their wake.

I stay back, standing at the foot of the stairs so I can bolt if needed, and challenge him. He gets it, judging by the hard set of his shoulders and the way his gaze turns hungry, deliciously dark.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

His jaw clenches and the air seems to hum with electricity as his eyes turn to two pools of melted chocolate.

“Is that what you want, little bird?”

God, he’s so damned stubborn.

“I want you to want me.”

He takes a single step toward me that makes me want to take a step back, but I hold my ground.

“You really think I don’t?”

I swallow over the lump in my throat, forcing myself to keep my head held high.

“Well, Mr. Morrison,” I start, slipping my fingers under my top and pulling it off as I go. “I feel great. Sexually starved, but great.”

“Nova,” he warns, voice tight and his eyes like a branding iron when his gaze travels over my bare breasts. I don’t miss the way his jaw feathers or the way he drags his tongue across his teeth like a predator, starving for it’s next meal.

Okay, this man wants me. So, why is he denying us both?

“I’ve been waiting for you, but you aren’t delivering.” By the time I reach for the button on my shorts, my body is humming from the way his stare devours me. “You can sit down here and worry about whatever’s going through your head.” I step toward the stairs. “Or, you can join me.” I take a step up, looking at him over my shoulder so he can get a good view of the black lacy panties I wore. “If not, I’ll do it myself.”

“Nova,” he grits, his voice like a whip cracking as he steps toward the stairs after me.

“Don’t worry, my vibrator’s charged.”

In a flash, I take off up the stairs and giggle at the heavy footfalls of him chasing after me. I beat him to the room and shut the door just as he reaches the top of the landing and lock it.

This cat and mouse game is kind of fun. Hearing Reid banging at my door because he thinks I can get myself off with my vibrator and not him? Even fucking better.

Little does he know, I’ve already tried. It’s him I’m craving.

Just for good measure, I pull it out from the nightstand and cut it on, knowing he can hear the low hum of the vibrations through the door.

“Nova, I swear to fucking god, if you don’t let me in this room . . .” he grits through the door, his voice too calm for comfort.

“Mmmm . . .” I moan, enjoying the way he groans out my name like it’s a curse. “It’s okay, Reid. I can handle it.”

“Nova.” I stifle my nervous laugh with the back of my hand. “Don’t make me take the lock off this door.”

He sounds like a man on the verge of his sanity collapsing. Maybe I should unlock the door, but something keeps me rooted in place because suddenly, he goes silent.

He can’t break the lock. There’s no way.

With a metallic thud, the entire door handle hits the floor and the door sways open, the sound straight out of an old horror movie as a terrifying Reid comes into view.

Oh shit.

Eyes lifting to meet two molten chocolate ones, I press the button on the vibrator, silencing its hum. Silence, thick and sweltering falls over the room as Reid looks at me like the grim reaper, come to collect my soul.

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