Page 35 of Flame
He lowers his lips. I lift on my toes, raising my arms to encircle his neck, when his phone rings on the table.
Oof.
Foxx stands tall, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. I fall against the cold counter and drag in a hasty breath.
He turns and leaves me …stunned.
My emotions swirl, going from turned on, to confused, to excited, todesperate.
“Foxx …” There’s more need, more want, more pleading in my tone than I care to acknowledge.
My heart races just as quickly as my head, leaving me loopy and frantic.
He strolls across the floor like the composed, untouchable Foxx Carmichael that he is with everyone else.How can he be so calm and cool now?
“I watched him walk inside your house with that cocky fucking swagger of his and convinced myself that I had no right to piece that fucker apart.”
My eyes fall closed for the briefest moment.
He’ll come back. He’ll need to discuss this as much as I do. How could he not?
Just breathe.
Foxx grabs his phone and looks at the screen and then at me. Lines mar his forehead.
I force a swallow down my throat.
“We can’t do this, Bianca. And it has nothing to do with you.”
What the hell?
I shove away from the counter, my jaw hitting the floor. My face is hot—my temper even hotter.
“What do you mean,we can’t do this, and it has nothing to do with you? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask, staring at him in disbelief.
“I have to take this call,” he says, heading for the door.
I pick up my jaw, my teeth clenching so hard they hurt. There’s no way he’s ghosting me. Not again.
“Tell me you’re kidding me right now,” I say, barely able to get the words out.
He pauses in the doorway. “There’s nothing left to discuss.”
“You think you’re going to stand here and tell me all that and then walk out?” I laugh angrily. “Again?”
He takes a long, deep breath. I expect him to slide his phone in his pocket and return to me. But he doesn’t move—not toward me, anyway.
“I’ll put something for you to sleep in on the counter in the guest bathroom,” he says, resolute.
“Don’t bother.”
The phone stops, then begins to ring all over again. Irritation flashes through his eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s because of me, the call, or both.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
I can see it in his eyes—he’s locked me out. Only, this time, he can’t call off the job because he’s home. I’m the one in his space. Regret is painted all over his face.Fuck you, Foxx.
“Your phone is ringing,” I say, glaring at him.
