Page 77 of Right Number, Wrong Man
I unlock the door and walk out into the hallway. In the kitchen, I pour a glass of water and leave it on the table with a small bottle of painkillers from my pocket. I was rough with her. She’ll need them later.
The menu of a Thai restaurant is stuck to the fridge door with a pink bow magnet, and the green curry is circled. I make a mental note. Can’t hurt to know her favorite food.
When the shower turns off, I skulk to the bathroom. Drowning play can be dangerous and I gotta make sure she’s fine.
I stick my head inside the steamy room and instantly start sweating under the mask again. “Still feeling alright?” I ask.
Hailey wraps her hair in a towel, water dripping offher rosy skin. “For a man who almost drowned me in my tub, you’re awfully concerned.”
My shoulders tense at her accusation. Does she think I was seriously trying to hurt her?
“I was always in control of the situation,” I growl and wince. In normal conversation, the voice modulator makes me sound like the wannabe villain out of a B-movie superhero parody. I’m not a big fan. They’d probably call me General Grief Boner.
“Sure,” she says and winks.
That’s when I realize she’s playing around.
Damn, when did I get so sensitive? Guess I’ve always been fragile when it’s about her. I’ve been told that I have a heart of stone, but Hailey can shatter it with a flick of her dainty finger.
“There’s painkillers and water on the kitchen table. Drink it all and take two pills,” I say.
“Yes, Daddy.” Smiling, she takes a blow dryer from a cabinet under the sink and plugs it in. “Thank you for tonight. It was…wow. No words, really. I hope we can do this again?”
“We will. Give me a call anytime if you’re feeling unwell. I’m heading out.”
“Okay,” Hailey says, contentment in her tone. She genuinely doesn’t give a damn if I stay.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. When she turns on the blow dryer, I spin around and rush to the front door. Dizzy, I stumble down the stairs.
Tonight was only our first hookup, but I don’t know how many more times I can pretend not to care.
29
COLT
Mithridatism.
The word spins in my head as I watch Hailey across theRetro Reel’sempty lobby, her eyes glued to her phone, doing anything to avoid me.
Legend has it, the ancient king Mithridates was so obsessed with his fear of getting poisoned, he thought he could protect himself by taking small amounts of poison every day. In time, he hoped he would become immune to the effects.
But Mithridatism doesn’t work with all substances and nothing can make me immune to Hailey’s charms. I thought I could control myself and keep a handle on being the masked Dom of her dreams, but I’m an idiot.
A heart-broken, yearning idiot. Pretending to keep things casual is killing me inside.
The echo of Hailey’s moans is all I hear, her smile is all I see when I close my eyes. The scent of her sweat and her sweet perfume lingers in my nose. My fingertips buzz with the memory of her soft skin.
I hate myself for leaving last night. She doesn’t deserve to be used and cast aside like a toy, even if she didn’t give a damn about me walking out. That’s not the kinda relationship I want for us.
I want to fuck her like I’ll kill her and then care for her. I’d run a bath and wash her hair, kiss her bruises and soothe her pain. We’d order takeout and watch her favorite movies until she falls asleep in my arms on the sofa and I carry her to bed.
“Colt?” Hailey’s voice rings out.
“What?” I snap.
Me and my stupid, big mouth. Why the hell did I react like that? I ain’t even mad at her… I’m mad at myself for not getting my act together.
“Sorry, what’s up?” I ask, softening my tone.
