Page 106 of Double Down
I close my eyes and try to grab my breath, hold it for a space and release it in time with an imaginary line tracing a box. It doesn’t work. I need Phoenix.
I need her to help me breathe again.
“Maverick.”
A waitress calls me out of my thoughts. She’s one of the newer ones, her ponytail high, tray tucked against her hip like a shield,shirt unbuttoned low enough that it’s obvious she wants eyes on her cleavage.
She tilts her head, biting her lip. She’s giving me a look I know how to answer.
“Hey,” I say easily. The word slides out by habit, all part of the mask I’ve been wearing for years.
“You look like you could use a distraction,” she says, low enough not to carry. “I’m sure running this place is stressful, and I’d love to help relieve some of the…stress.”
She’s not wrong. She is also not the relief I want. I open my mouth to tell her thanks, but no thanks.
The whiskey slurs my words. “Thanks, sugar. But nah. I think I’m done for the night.”
“You sure, sir? I have a break I can take.” She gives me a thousand-watt smile.
I go to walk away, because I’m stupid but I’m not an idiot. Drunk, yes. But I’m not about to hurt my Firebird that way.
I practically lurch away only to stumble slightly. “Well, okay, then.” She huffs. “Let’s get you upstairs, big guy. I don’t think you’ll make it on your own.”
She guides me to the service elevator, the one that leads from one of the rear docks directly into the resort. This barren hallway has seen more secrets than any confessional.
Officially it’s used just for the cleaning crew, so they can move around discreetly. Unofficially, every Titan has used it for quick hook-up with staff and guests since we turned eighteen.It buzzes with the sound of fluorescent lights and smells like detergent, but it serves its purpose.
All of them.
In the elevator, she steps close, her perfume filling the space. It smells like roses and desperation.
Not Phoenix. Don’t touch.
Her hand slides over my stomach and under my jacket before I can stop her. But I shake my head.No.
“Gotta get some rest. Don’t touch me please.”
But my words are cut off as the elevator pings to let us out at the penthouse.
It’s not until I grab the doorknob that I allow myself to consider how wrong this is.
The guys…Storm is going to kill me. Phoenix—this will hurt.
“You gotta get back down, I’m sure.”
“I’d love to go down on you,” she purrs, and I’m about to lose the little bit of food I’ve had.
I don’t fucking know what to do, but I need to sit down because my head is spinning.
“It’s not gonna happen.” I tell her bluntly, scrounging for what scraps of clarity I still possess. “I’ve been drinking, and I’m not interested.”
She nods, and then the smile is back. “That’s okay. Let’s just get you inside and get some water into you.”
“Thanks,” I smile back.
See? That was easy.
We are barely inside the door when the waitress turns on me. Her hands are on my chest, her mouth on my jaw. The aggression in it is telling, even through the haze of drink—it’s the kind of kiss that says she wants a story to tell later about the time she had a Titan against a door.
