Page 28 of Sweet Surrender

This was all wrong.

The ugliest flashback hit me at the worst possible time. I was fifteen again, standing at my family’s apartment door while he smirked down at me. He was in on the joke, and I was about to be caught in the crossfire. Was that what was going on now? Could I afford to take a chance and assume good intentions?

I bristled, rolling my shoulders back. “You’re going to have to explain yourself because I’m not liking how this is going.”

Then I stood, crossing the room to grab something cold from the mini refrigerator in the corner. I was entirely too warm, too unsettled. And it gave me the opportunity to collect myself while he wasn’t staring into my face.

“Exactly what am I doing wrong?” he asked. “Trying to patch things up so we can have a good working relationship, and you’re still treating me like a fuckup.” Even that came off wrong since he sounded like he was making a joke. There was no growling, grunting, or grinding of teeth.

“Out with it already.” I twisted the cap on a bottle of green juice, glaring at him over my shoulder before taking a swig of the drink. I barely tasted it. It may as well have been sawdust. After swallowing, I announced, “You’re fucking with me, and I don’t like it. I also don’t have time for it.”

My heart lodged itself in my throat when he stood, unfolding his impressive body. He moved slowly toward me, his hands in his pockets and his eyes flicking over my face before skimming over my form-fitting dress. “Why does everything have to be a fight with you?” His voice was softer, deeper, and it did dangerous things to my pussy while also kicking my instincts into high gear. “I’m trying to be decent to make up for the shit I already put you through. Is that a crime?”

No, but it was all wrong. Did he forget we hadn’t just met? “You know, an apology would work just as well.”

Scoffing, he muttered, “I don’t do apologies.”

“Wow. I’m shocked.”

“Besides. What are words?” He looked me over again, pulling his hands from his pockets and making me wonder what he planned on doing with them while he stepped up close enough to give me a whiff of his toe-curling cologne. “I’m much more into action. And I think you are too.”

Sexy cologne or not, this was entirely too unnerving. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but?—”

A wicked smile flashed across his face before he touched a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

No.

It wasn’t possible.

All the air left my lungs in a rush before nausea twisted my stomach. So this was how it felt when the entire world came crashing down like cold sweat prickling on the back of my neck while I fought with all my might to deny what was in front of me.

Once again, I was back where I started—at a loss, fumbling around in my head, panicking while he stood in front of me, practically on the verge of laughter. At least, that was how it looked while I fought to keep down what I had just drank.

It was impossible.

It couldn’t be true.

Yet when I looked at him, when I truly saw him, it was painfully obvious. His height, his physique, his mouth and eyes. All of it. It was him. It had been him all along, and he knew it.

“Get out.” My voice was shaking, but I didn’t care. Fuck, he had already seen me in the most intimate, almost embarrassing moments. What difference did it make now if I showed a little emotion? “Get out of my office and never come back.”

His smile slipped, and he had the nerve to look surprised. “Wait. That’s not how this is supposed to be.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think this is supposed to be,” I spat. I could barely hear my voice over the roaring in my head.

How could he? How could he know and make a joke about it? How long had he known? The entire time? Why wouldn’t he say anything?

I didn’t have it in me to demand answers and wasn’t sure I could bear hearing them anyway. Not when I was on the verge of a screaming, sobbing fit. How could he do this? How could he take advantage of me that way? I could’ve died from shame then and there while he gaped at me in surprise.

“Do I need to call security?” I whispered, shaking, on the verge of tears.

“This isn’t right,” he insisted. “It wasn’t supposed to?—”

“I said go. Now, Noah,” I insisted, thrusting a shaking arm toward the door. “Or I will have you escorted out. Your choice.”

A range of conflicting emotions washed over him, playing across his chiseled features before those features hardened into an unreadable mask. “Right. Whatever you say.” He had the nerve to scoff as he turned away and crossed the room, shaking his head the whole way.

I barely managed to hold myself together until he was gone. Once the door closed, I staggered to my desk, leaning against it with one hand on my chest. Every breath took effort while my heart raced out of control, and the room spun around me.

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