Page 8 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Miraculously, the keypad flashed green. Somehow the door was unlocked.

Lucky break? Maybe.

Unless all these little supposed wins were going to add up to the biggest fail of all.

Inside the room, I pressed my back against the wall and took a deep breath. Seemed to be something I was doing a lot today. Oz had left on a small light on the dressing table, casting most of the small, unremarkable room in shadow. My heart was beating like a trapped hummingbird’s wings. He was going to flip when he discovered me in here. What the hell was I thinking?

I still couldn’t hear him in the hall. Maybe he’d left directly without stopping by here, although I could see his backpack tipped over on a chair.

I might live to see another day.

Stiffening my shoulders, I yanked open the door, gasping at the tall, broad wall of man filling the doorway.

Too slow, Flannigan.

“Lost, little Daisy?”

Though the words were mocking, his tone was not. He sounded so exhausted. Deep lines furrowed around his beautiful dark eyes, currently bloodshot with fatigue. How long had it been since he’d had a nice home-cooked meal and a good night’s sleep?

If I had to guess, he probably hadn’t slept well in five years. Just as I hadn’t.

“We have to talk.” The quaver in my voice seriously pissed me off, almost as much as my confidence collapsing in front of him backstage.

I was not a woman who didn’t know her own worth. Not anymore.

He crossed his arms and shifted enough to let me see the bottle poking out of the pocket of his jeans. “If you’re here to demand an apology about what I said, don’t bother.” He lifted his gaze toward the ceiling. “I know I was a dick. I probably didn’t mean it. Now can you leave?”

I’d already gotten more than I expected from him. What a sad statement that was. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“No.”

“No?” He didn’t seem mad so much as puzzled. “Why the hell not? You’re missing the afterparty.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I care about that.”

His gaze drifted all too quickly over my ensemble. I was proud of my body. Sure, I had some flaws. Who didn’t? But normally, a hot guy checking me out didn’t make me want to look for the nearest fluffy bathrobe.

Everything was different with Oz. I was different. If he said something derogatory about how I dressed, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to look at him the same way. He had always been slotted into the older brother role in my life because of Kerry, but I was a grown woman now and he had no right to judge my choice of attire.

“You’d shut it down for any other woman, coming in there like that.”

I nearly choked. Had he just said I was attractive? Or at least insinuated it?

I had to practically do a high jump to reach his forehead. I laid the back of my wrist against it while he frowned at me, causing the dent in his chin to turn into a furrow. “What the hell are you doing?”

“That almost sounded like a vague compliment. I’m checking to see if you’re ill.”

He grabbed my wrist, holding on a second too long with his far too pleasurable grip. If someone had asked me, oh, eleven seconds ago, if I enjoyed any sort of rough play, I probably would’ve said no. I liked being in control—now. But between his implacable hold and the steely glint in his eyes, I was putty in his hands.

“Oh, yeah, I’m ill, all right. Obviously. What are you doing in my room?”

“Your dressing room, you mean? You don’t own it.”

He dropped my arm. “Yeah, well, you’re right about that. Only thing left for me to do now is clear the fuck out.” He quickly scanned the room, a long exhale leaving him as his gaze alighted on something clearly very valuable. “There she is.”

My back prickled with jealousy. Had I missed some memento of a woman in this room? There certainly hadn’t been some female secreted away in a shadowy corner.

I pivoted to watch Oz. Oh, how wrong I was.

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