Page 66 of Flagrant Foul
Sev doesn’t move, but the temperature in the elevator plummets. He lets out a single breath. A long, low hiss that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Hey, Rook,” he says casually. “Do you like having your head attached to your shoulders?”
Lockie visibly straightens, dropping his hand as he tightens his other around the strap of the duffel he has on his shoulder. “Um, uh, yeah. I-I do.”
Sev’s growl is a wild, untamed thing. A rough edge and a sharp blade. “Might be wise to remember that.”
Lockie gulps audibly and jabs the button for his floor so hard I hear the softrat-a-tatof fingernail on brass over the wail of a saxophone.
“Sev,” I say when Lockie has made his hasty exit. “It’s not like t—”
He cuts me off with a soft, almost defeated, “I know.”
Sev is still standing behind me, and now that we’re the only people in the elevator, his presence is bigger. Closer. The temperature rachets up. Subzero to boiling in two seconds flat. It’s not just the temperature in the elevator either. It’s my body temperature too. There’s somethingabout being trapped in a small space with a formidable Sev that does it for me.
The old me would have had a field day with this. I’d have been all over it, writing a scene in my mind worthy of an Oscar, or at least one of those Grabby or GayVN awards they have in the adult entertainment industry.
The new me takes a calming breath and reminds myself that nothing is going to happen. It’s not a feeling anymore, not a suspicion, or a notion formed in self-doubt. It’s a fact.
I’m not going to sexually objectify Sev anymore or want things from him that I can’t have. I’m going to love and accept him as he is.
The elevator doors open on my floor. Before I have time to pick up my bag, Sev does it for me, hoisting it over his shoulder along with his.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He shoots me a heated look. “Walking you to your room.”
In his defense, it was kind of a stupid question. He stalks behind me soundlessly as I look for my room. We’ve stayed in this hotel before. Many times. It’s one of my favorite hotels in the country. The décor is dark and dramatic. Black-and-white checkered floor tile andmoody lighting. The hallway is wide, but tonight, with Sev at my back, it feels a little crowded.
2150
2152
2154
“This is me,” I say.
Sev omits a gruff sound and drops my bag at my feet.
For years, I thought of his face as devastating. Devastatingly handsome. Devastatingly hot. It’s more than devastating tonight. He’s wearing his suit—black and well-tailored—the way he always does. Like a second skin. Like something that’s part of him. There’s a brutal grace to his movements that’s animalistic in its ease. Predatory, almost. He has his hair tied back. For once, few strands have escaped.
It’s a severe look that should make him appear unapproachable or cold.
It doesn’t.
Perhaps it’s his mood, or maybe it’s his hair, it might even be the lighting, but either way, tonight, there’s something haunted about him.
The old me would be very concerned. I’d have dashed to the forefront, tried to work out what was bothering him, tried to fix it, and tried to make him fall in love with me while I did it.
Either that, or I’d have tried to provoke him.
I’m not going to do any of that now. I’m going to rise above it.
And yes, my dick is rising too, but what of it? I’m human.
In truth, the new me is quite concerned about Sev. He’s not himself at all. I search his face for a clue about how worried I should be. His brow is heavy. Eyes shadowed and hard to read.
Usually, when we’re close to each other like this, I find it easy to get a read on him, or at least, I like to think I do. Tonight, the signal is jammed. We’re out of the elevator, and Lockie is several floors down, far away from us, but Sev is still throwing heatwaves at me like it’s his job.
