Page 87 of Dirty Eoin

It’s just as well my office is located in the same building. I know immediately what it relates to.

My ultimatum.

Her or me.

It was one or the other. The decision was his alone to make. Last night, and in the heat of the moment, he chose me.

I make my way to my apartment. There’s a knock on the door less than ten minutes later. I open it. He makes no eye contact as he strides in. The spicy scent of his cologne wraps around me.

He removes his suit jacket, leaving him in a white tailored shirt that he wears like a second skin. I now know that every inch underneath is toned and defined. I’ve explored his perfect imperfections several times over with my hands.

Lips. Tongue. Teeth.

He’s agitated. I watch as he paces the floor, running his fingers repeatedly through his hair.

To stop him from doing what exactly? Killing me? Or fucking me? It’s either one or the other.

He rolls his shirt sleeves up.

I guess he means business.

Masculine arms covered in veins. He must work out a lot. But then, what would I know? I know the businessperson. I know Mr. Smug. Selfish. Pompous.

The paradox that is Mr. Dominating. Dangerous. Deadly? I’m still trying to figure him out.

All we’ve ever done is go out of our way to aggravate each other with our constant back-and-forth needling. Our hate banter somehow started a fire that drew us both in and eventually made us want to reach out and touch the naked flame.

And last night we did.

It culminated in one night of intense hate-fucking, both of us taking what we needed, not knowing if the opportunity would ever arise again. Not knowing if we’d ever want it to again.

But my own cold light of day has me facing a raging hot inferno that I’m not sure I can ever put out.

Was it the same for him? I guess I’m about to find out.

“It’s done.”

He stops pacing and stares at me. He feels guilty. I know he does. And I guess that’s an alien feeling for him because Mr. Inconsiderate just walks over everyone and takes what he wants. He never stops to consider others.

But he did in her case because he thinks she saved his life.

She didn’t, though. I did. Twice.

But he doesn’t know that. Will he ever? Who knows? That’s not a decision I have to make right now while he’s staring at me like I’m the sun, the moon, and the stars.

I walk across and stand in front of him. His hair is messy, and his forehead creased.

“She…”

I place my finger against his lips. “I don’t want to know how she reacted. I would never gloat in the face of another woman’s misery. I’ve been the other woman, remember? I know how it feels being her. I’m sorry I had to make you choose, but I refuse to be anything less than someone’s everything. I have too much respect for myself. And, whether deserved or not, I have too much respect for Molly to allow her to be deserving of anything less either.”

He stares at me. Aquamarine eyes search mine, neither of us giving anything away. We haven’t reached the baring of souls stage. We likely never will. He and I will always be the classic example of enemies to lovers. A lethal cocktail mixed with a dash of twisted and taboo.

The main ingredient? Toxicity.

I lick my bruised bottom lip and his eyes drop to my mouth. His heartbeat instantly increases. I can see it in his throat. I feel mine doing the same.

Reflected.

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