Page 52 of Meet Me In The Dark
“I’m a man who gets what he wants.”
Her eyes narrow, a flash of defiance cutting through the heat. “And what exactly do you want?”
I lean in. “Right now? You. Flat on this desk. Begging.”
She smirks like she’s immune, but her pulse is pounding at her throat. “You think I’m the begging type?”
“No.” My voice drops to something dark. “I think you’re the type who wants to be made to.”
Her body sways toward me, the smallest arch, like she’s been caught off guard by her own reaction. I feel it. See it. I know exactly how right I am.
Just before I release her, I dip and whisper against her mouth, “See you soon, Ms. Morgan.”
I turn and storm out of her office without saying a word. I walk fast, jaw clenched, heat roaring through every cell in my body. I don’t stop to look back.
But those eyes—her fucking eyes—are seared into me. No matter how far away I get from her, I know I’ll still feel them.
Fifteen
I don’t go back to the office.
Instead, I text my assistant to clear my schedule and head for the exit without looking back.
Nathan falls into step beside me. “Gym?” he asks, reading me like he always does.
I guess he would, considering he and Wes have been my best friends since the day they rolled up to the front of my house. I was sitting on the steps with a scowl and enough anger in my chest to fuel a war. I didn’t belong there. I didn’t belong anywhere. New kid. No roots. Nothing but a chip on my shoulder the size of Texas. They were on bikes, asking if I wanted to come out and play.
Play?
Pussies.
I told them I didn’t have a bike and was ready to watch them leave.
But Wes, all bones and bloody knees, grinned and said, “I’ve got another one. It’s old, but I can fix it up for you.”
Then my mother opened the door and pushed me out, shoving me back into the world. Just like that, the three of us were on our way. It’s been that way ever since.
“Julian?” Nathan prompts, snapping me out of the memory.
I’m off my fucking game today, all because of the woman I left in that building.
“Yeah, I’m heading to the gym.”
“I’ll join you.”
I glance at him. “You fly out in four hours.”
“Exactly. One last hit of nostalgia.” He slaps my shoulder. “Might be good to see Mateo again. Remind ourselves who we are under all this polished bullshit.”
That earns a huff of air from my chest, the closest thing to a laugh I’ve got left.
∞∞∞
When we step into the ring, Mateo eyes us both. “Well, shit. Haven’t seen you two boys throw down in a while. Where’s the third stooge?”
“Wes is too busy with domesticated life,” I tell him, rolling my neck to try to ease the tension.
“Ah, he was always the smart one.”
