Page 3 of After-Party Consequences

Just when she thought she’d finally got the upper hand, the sexual tension snapping between them impossible for even Mr High and Mighty to deny, he huffed out a rough laugh. And the frown disappeared.

His firm lips kicked up in a wry smile so sensual it had her heartbeat sinking into her abdomen.

‘Don’t you think you’ve played with enough fire tonight, Charlotte?’ he said as he unfolded his arms and leaned past her to press the button on the lift panel.

He loomed over her, forcing her to look up. A novel experience, because at five-foot-eleven in her heels, she was rarely at this much of a height disadvantage.

How did he know her name?

But then, she knew how, and struggled not to wince. Didn’t everyone, after her meltdown at Paris Fashion Week a year ago?

‘My name’s Charley. No one calls me Charlotte,’ she declared, determined not to be overwhelmed by his woodsy cologne, or the mouth-watering close-up of his Adam’s apple, displayed against the open collar of his shirt alongside the flickering flames of an elaborate tattoo.

What would he do if she kissed him there, where the pulse in his throat throbbed in unison with the one in her panties?

His cool blue eyes turned to a searing sapphire, which made the pulsing awareness tense and melt at the same time. Surely he had to feel it too.

‘I built this place, Charlotte,’ he murmured. ‘And I hosted the party you just tried to turn into a dumbass free-for-all...’ Hepaused, clearly enjoying judging her—the hot, self-righteous jerk. ‘With your childish behaviour.’

‘Childish...?’ she hissed, knowing she’d never been a child. Not really.

She yanked back her outrage when she spotted the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. Was he deliberately trying to wind her up? Because it was totally working.

His cheeks tensed. He was waging a battle not to laugh, something he was struggling to hide.

Adrenaline surged up her torso. Why she found the spark of connection so thrilling, she had no idea. It had been a long time since she’d been attracted to any guy. Or had the desire to flirt with one. But something about Cade Landry—and his determination to see her as a girl instead of a woman—called to her inner demons.

She wanted to taste those lips so badly. Wanted to make him admit he saw her and she mattered. What would it be like to have those sensual lips taking hers in a ruthless kiss? Exciting? Exhilarating? Validating?

The throbbing in her sex matched the rush of blood in her ears. She breathed in a lungful of his delicious scent—man and musk and pine woods. A sob of surrender slipped from her lips, inviting him in.

She lifted her arm and curled her fingers around his nape. ‘Kiss me, Landry,’ she whispered, the feeling of empowerment making her feel euphoric. ‘You know you want to.’

But instead of covering her lips with his, he took her hand from around his neck and stepped back, the contempt in his eyes unmistakeable.

‘Kiss you?’ he murmured. The euphoria in her belly became sharp and jagged—the distaste in his tone something she’d heard before from her father. ‘Why the hell would I want to kiss an off-the-rails kid with an attitude problem?’

The lift doors swished open behind her, the sound masked by the brutal thunder of her heartbeat.

‘Now get out of my place, before I call the cops,’ he finished, the disgust in his eyes searing her soul.

She stared, speechless with humiliation, as he turned and walked back into the event without a backward glance.

She rushed into the lift, suddenly desperate to get away from him—and the rejection echoing in her ears. She stabbed at the button, the hot, angry tears burning her eyeballs. She bit into her lip to stop them falling as the lift doors closed at last.

She hadn’t cried since the day her mother had died, when she was eight years old. She certainly didn’t intend to let a few harsh words from a staid, boring, self-righteous jerk with a superiority complex make her cry now.

But as the luminous glitter of the neon cityscape was revealed in the glass wall on the far side of the lift, Cade Landry’s sharp words echoed over and over again in her head. Her stomach dropped like a stone, the stunning view of Las Vegas only making her feel smaller and more foolish and insignificant.

She wanted to hate Cade Landry for being as cruel and dismissive as her father. Why should she care if he didn’t see her? Didn’t want her? When other men did?

But as the scenic elevator tracked down the side of the building, and the miserable sinking sensation in her stomach bottomed out at her toes, instead of feeling righteous and fierce and independent, all she really felt was how she’d felt throughout her childhood. Vulnerable...and unlovable...and invisible...and hideously alone.

CHAPTER ONE

July 4, the present

CADELANDRYWRAPPEDa towel around his waist, ready to head into the sauna behind his squash buddies, Zane deMarco and Adam Courtney. They met every couple of weeks to thrash out their frustrations on the court. But that wasn’t the only reason he was here today.

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