Page 132 of King of Pain
“Jesus,” she says under her breath. “The way he’s looking at you.”
“Not helping,” I sing-whisper as heat runs up my neck.
She exhales sharply. “I need to get to Atlanta.Sooner than later.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You gonna be okay?” she asks. “Should I stay?”
I straighten, steeling myself. “No, go catch your flight. I’m good.”
Meg gives me a pointed look. “Okay.Text me.I want to know everything.”
She heads toward her car, leaving me to deal with thetemptationleaning against mine.
I approach cautiously, stopping a few feet away. Chance’s devilish smirk doesn’t falter.
“Hey, Beautiful.”
I cross my arms. “I told you—you lost your privilege to call me that. What are you doing here?”
His smirk grows.
I narrow my eyes. “How do you even know where I work?Better yet,how did you know which car was mine?”
Chance pushes off the car, taking one slow step toward me.
“Well, there’s this magic tool called the internet where you can find out which company people work for. And sometimes, those companies have websites with office addresses.”
I shake my head. “Uh-huh. And my car?”
He shrugs. “I hedged my bets on the one car in the garage with aDuran Duran backstage passhanging from the rearview.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, fine. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He takes another step closer. My pulse kicks up.
“I’m here, Beautiful, because I needed to see you.” His eyes rake over me, slow and heated. “My eyes have only been able to feast on you once since I’ve been back.They’re starved.”
Heat licks at my skin.Oh, fuck him.
I swallow. “What do you want from me, Chance?”
His expression softens. “I want you to please give me one shot at explaining my actions.”
I stiffen, but he doesn’t stop.
“There’s a reason behind everything I did. Reasons that I’m hoping willalter your perception.I know I can’t take away any pain I caused, but it’s important that youknow why.”
I stare at him, considering. The part of me thatstill aches for himand needs answers wants to give in. But the other part? The part that lived with his absence for three years? That partwins.
I take a step back. “No.”
His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I’m not ready for that. I need time.” I pause, exhaling. “There was a point—up until about a year after you left—where I would’ve jumped into your arms if you came back. I would’ve had questions, but I would’ve been happyjust to have you near me again.”
His throat bobs.
“But three years, Chance. Iwaitedthree years. You can give me some time.”
