Page 84 of Clean Point

I hummed, drumming my fingers on the glass before placing it down. ‘Hold on a moment.’

I walked to the tea station in the corner of the room, finding a clean mug before dipping down to the mini fridge underneath. I turned to him for a moment, noticing that he’d sat down on the bench at the end of my bed.

Nico Kotas on the edge of my bed. What a dangerous thing.

‘Sparkling or still?’

His nose scrunched up at the thought. ‘Still, please.’ I pulled the bottle out and poured the clear liquid into the mug.

‘Thanks.’ He took the white mug from me, his longer fingers spaying around the porcelain, and I tried to push all the dirty thoughts down. Tried to forget how well Nico knew how to use those fingers in very sensitive places, how easily he had me desperate for him. I smiled, pretending there was nothing at all going on in my head, before taking my place next to him, my own drink back in hand.

‘I should offer you a coffee,’ I teased, nudging into his shoulder a little. ‘But then I’d have to tell you where I get it from.’

He huffed, the smallest smile creeping onto his lips. ‘You’re never going to let that one go, are you?’

I bit at my cheek, my broad smile spreading. ‘Cheers to us,’ I said, changing the subject and bringing my drink up to him. The storm on his face broke, and for a moment, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the dark clouds as his mug met mine, the dull clink of porcelain singing against my glass.

‘To us,’ he repeated, his dark eyes not leaving mine. I was mesmerized as the curve of his mouth grew, absentmindedly taking a sip, the sweet citrus agave notes dancing on my tongue. He lifted his mug and took a sip, his shoulders slackening as he relaxed.

All I could think about was the press of his lips against mine, the rub of his stubble, and why on earth we are here in my hotel room when we should’ve been downstairs.

‘Why are you here?’ I asked. ‘I know I was running late, but it was only fifteen minutes.’

His head dipped to the ground, the sunshine disappearing behind storm clouds.

‘I just …’ he trailed off, the line of his jaw going tight. His eyes pressed closed for a moment as he exhaled, as if still trying to calm himself. His grip on the mug tightened, his knuckles almost turning white. ‘I had to see you.’

I was confused for a moment. He had been with me all day, only taking a couple of hours to recover from the match. But then it dawned on me that something in those few hours, in those fifteen minutes, had gone wrong.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze lost somewhere across the hotel room instead of on me. ‘There was a man, a journalist, at the bar.’ He shook his head as a knot appeared in my gut. ‘He wouldn’t stop asking questions, kept saying … things.’

My mind raced with a thousand headlines, a thousand scandalous photos. I’d never regretted doing any of it and had enjoyed it, as a matter of fact. But I’d never considered there’d be somebody like Nico, somebody maybe worth being extra careful for.

My brows pressed together, trying to read the unfinished answers from his face. ‘What did he say?’

He paused, the bob of his throat swallowing as he tried to find the words. ‘He said things about you that I didn’t like. Not at all.’

His entire body was rigid, as if he was holding himself back from something, from storming back downstairs and making a terrible decision. Maybe another terrible decision.

‘Did you …’ I trailed off, almost afraid to finish the sentence. I could see him holding Jon to the wall. If he lost his temper like that again … this would be over. He’d be kicked out of the competition. I didn’t know how to do this without him anymore.

Didn’t want to, either.

I watched as he shook his head, his eyes dipping to the ground. ‘I didn’t do anything. I told him to stop, and I left.’

Relief washed over me in an instant. ‘And that’s all?’

‘I let him get under my skin, Scottie. I gave him what he wanted.’

I didn’t feel anything but sorry. Before me, he didn’t have any of this trouble. He didn’t have journalists hounding him in hotel bars, using me, my history, as a way to irritate him into a quote for their headlines. He wouldn’t know that peace again for as long as he was with me. Another reason to add to the endless list of reasons why ‘we’ were a terrible idea.

My eyes danced over his face, reading the regret, the annoyance across his features.

‘You walked away, right?’ I asked, before finishing the liquid in my glass. His eyes found me, and he simply nodded his head.

I didn’t break his gaze. ‘And you came here instead of doing anything?’

Came here. Found me. Needed me?

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