Page 133 of Bona Fide

I feel a muscle twitch in my jaw because again he does what he always wants to do. “And you thought it’d be a great idea to have a reunion?”

He scoffs and swings his feet over the side of the lounge chair to stand, holding up his glass so he doesn’t spill it.

I wish he hadn’t.

I prefer to have the upper hand on him right now if only it was the height. Because when he towers over me, in all his devout glory, it begs me to just forget. To leave behind how I was beginning to fall deep for this man. I was consumed by everything that was him and was just beginning to forget that he was a politician but a man I was learning to open up to.

I’ve been trying to deny it for over a year, but I know, deep down, that he has a hold on me, and I’ve struggled to cut myself free. That, even now, I’m fighting off conflicting feelings of want and anger.

I want him to not be who he is—a liar, someone who didn’t think about how much this could hurt me.

And I’m pissed because I’m still madly attracted and vulnerable in his presence.

“No reunion,” he mutters to me, making me crane my neck to look at him. “You’ve had enough of those over the course of a year with your two buddies. Brothers—” He shakes his head. “—cruel behavior, Shelton. Especially when they both have strong feelings for you.” He begins to pivot on his heels, but my hand latches on to his forearm, and I think I feel him flinch.

Quickly, I remove it and straighten my spine. “What have you done, Lockwood?”

He blinks at me, innocent and all-knowing. “Done with what?”

Then he does it.

The famous quirk of his lips that oozes cocky and confident. The panty-melting way his lips lift because he knows that he’s going to win and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

He takes a step in my direction, and my body instantly reacts to counter it, but I stay grounded.

If he wants to go to battle, I’m suited up and ready. My armor might be a tad bit weak and I might be the underdog, but that’s who the people root for. And I’m betting that it still strikes a fucking nerve with what I’ve done to him.

“Did you honestly think I was going to let the Hardisons get away with touching what was mine? A-fucking-gain, Miss Shelton?” Another step and he’s inches away from my chest as his shadow casts over me and blocks out the warm sun.

It’s cold and dark in his shade, threatening to hurl a full-body shiver up your spine and down to your toes.

Now I know how his enemies feel.

“The best time to attack, Shelton, is when your opponent has his guard down. When he thinks he got away with something. It’s been over a year...I don’t forget shit.”

“Be careful, Mr. President,” I glower. “You’re letting your liabilities show.”

His mouth twists. “I obviously don’t have any anymore.” Then he swivels on his feet and takes off towards the resort.

Hitting me with another, and familiar, twinge of regret.

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