Page 117 of Vegas Heat

I raise a brow. “Yeah?”

She nods. “We had a really fun night.”

“You stayed over there with him?” I press.

She presses her lips together and nods, her eyes defiant as they move toward mine.

I move in a little closer to her, and she backs up until her backside bumps into the counter. I keep moving closer until I’ve got her boxed in. I set my arms on the counter and lean down, getting in her face as I smell her fresh vanilla after her shower.

I breathe her in deeply for a beat, and then I say, “Oh did you? Then why did he come by here asking for you this morning?”

Her eyes widen as she looks caught, but before she can come up with any sort of defense, I plow forward.

“Don’t fucking play games with me, Gabby. Where were you last night?” I move so my face is right in front of hers.

“None of your business.”

“Where were you?” I demand again.

“At Mia’s.” Her voice has an edge of fear in it, and something about her showing vulnerability pushes me to take her and make her mine, to mark her and protect her. To hell with the commitments and what Troy might think. I fucking need her like I need to breathe, and I will not stop until I get the truth out of her.

“Are you sleeping with Justin?” I demand, my lips centimeters from hers.

“No,” she says softly.

“What’s going on with the two of you?”

Her eyes flick to my lips. “We’re just friends.”

My lips crash down to hers, and she moans as she gives in, her lips parting to mine and our tongues languidly brushing against each other’s.

We both hear a key slide into the front door. We don’t have much time, and I don’t know what to do. I told her not to play games, and two seconds later I kissed her after I told her time and again that I couldn’t do this.

She pulls back first, resting her palms gently on my chest for a beat before she pushes me away. “I never meant anything to you, so why do you care who I’m sleeping with?”

“Goddammit, Gabby, you know that’s a lie,” I say, frustration stabbing into me like a million tiny knives all at once. I hear the door open, and I lower my voice to a whisper as I fight to finish this conversation. “I don’t know what to do. I fucking love you so much, but we can’t be together.”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” she says, and her eyes are still hot on mine when her father walks into the kitchen.

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 3, FLYBALL

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