Page 51 of My Grumpy Billionaire Protector

My smile grows wider. “I wasn’t aware you were watching me so closely.”

Evie shrugs.

I take a step closer and bridge the gap between us. She is pressed against my chest. The warmth is seeping through her clothes, and the floral smell of her perfume wafts up to my nostrils. Before I can talk myself out of it, I wrap one arm around her waist, and the other tilts her head back. Her mouth parts, and she gasps, twin pools of color blossoming onto her cheeks.

Then my mouth is on hers and I realize she tastes like vanilla and wine. It is a heady combination that sends chills racing up and down my spine. She shudders, her body curving against mine until my other hand moves down to her hips. Abruptly, she wrenches her lips away and steps out of my reach.

She then slaps me across the cheek, leaving an angry red mark.

EVIE

My fingers tremble as I pull them away and curl them into a fist at my side. I swallow several times before I am able to speak. My heart is hammering against my chest.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Shane gingerly touches his cheek, and his eyebrows draw together. “I… I’m sorry.”

I hold up a hand and take an unsteady step back. “Just don’t.”

With that, I give a slight shake of my head and storm past him, resisting the urge to touch my fingers to my lips.

Back in my room, I slam the door shut behind me and lean my forehead against it. Then I use my thumb to trace my lips over and over, unable to believe the tingling sensation and the burning in the pit of my stomach.

I have never been kissed like that before.

My entire body feels alive and humming with energy.

I push myself off the door and glance down at my bare feet. Quickly, I yank off my stockings and toss them into the far corner of the room. Next, came the skirt. It pools into a puddle at my feet before I kick it away. I make a low, frustrated noise in the back of my throat. My fingers are steady as I peel off the sweater and throw it onto the pile on the floor. In my plain cotton bra and underwear, I stomp over to the bathroom and flick the lights on.

The bright fluorescent lights make me wince.

As soon as I reach the sink, I hold onto the counter and blow out a breath. “What the hell was that? You shouldn’t have let your guard down, Evie. He’s just using you.”

After bending down to splash water on my face, I shiver and turn toward the shower stall next to the tub. I lift my head and twist the knob. While I wait for the water to heat up, I rid myself of the rest of my clothes. Inside the shower, I place my hands on either side of me and squeeze my eyes shut. Hot water cascades down my back before swirling at my feet.

Again and again, I scrub myself until my skin is raw and my fingers are red. Still, I can’t shake off how Shane felt as he was pressed against me, his lips devouring mine. A ripple of goosebumps breaks out across my flesh, and I shiver. Slowly, I wrap my arms around myself and lower my head.

Fuck.

You cannot be attracted to Shane, okay? It doesn’t matter how nice he’s been or how well the two of you get along when you aren’t biting each other’s heads off. You two are only on the same side temporarily, and no good is going to come of this.

By the time my heart rate slows to a steady, staccato rhythm, I step out of the shower and reach for the towel. I tie it around myself and use my hand to wipe the steam off the mirror. Carefully, I avoid looking at myself and instead run my toothbrush under the faucet and brush my teeth with more vigor than necessary. When I am done, I finally look at myself in the mirror, allowing the towel to fall to the floor while I examine every inch of skin.

I finish and step back into the bedroom with a thin mist trailing behind me. I push my hair out of my eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the flicker of flames in the fireplace. I turn toward it and stare, watching as they dance and flicker, casting red and orange shadows all over the pastel-colored walls. With a slight shake of my head, I use one hand to hold the towel up while the other is fisted at my side. After retrieving a dark hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, I wrap my hair in a towel and crawl into the bed. I bury myself underneath the covers. I then lift them up to my chin and pat the sheets down, looking for the remote.

But I can’t seem to focus.

I keep replaying the scene back in my head, going over every detail until I am sure my head is going to explode. Yet, I am no closer to coming up with an explanation now than I had been an hour ago. Granted, I’ve taken Riley’s advice, albeit temporarily, but I didn’t mean to befriend Shane. Only a week and a half into our acquaintance, and half the time, we are screaming our heads off as I struggle not to throw something heavy at him.

However, when we aren’t arguing, I do enjoy his company.

And it is driving me crazy.

Why?

Why couldn’t I just hate him?

This is Stockholm Syndrome. It has to be. There’s no other explanation for it.

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