Page 17 of Blindsided

To my surprise, Easton stopped and turned. A muscle twitched in his jaw, only noticeable because his beard twitched, but he wasn’t moving or telling me to go jump off a bridge somewhere. Hard as it was, I tried again. “Please? Can we go to my room and talk this out? You have questions; I have answers. I don’t want to be the reason why you don’t take this job, and if we don’t work through this tonight, tomorrow is going to be a disaster.”

Easton didn’t leave, though he also didn’t look convinced. I had to force myself to not squirm. The intensity in his blue eyes was waking my libido up, my heart pumping faster and my breaths shallow. The urge to beg him to fuck me, spank me, flog me, make the constant stress in my life stop was fighting with my logical brain. It didn’t matter how much I knew that wasn’t on the table or how inappropriate the thoughts were, they were there.

After what felt like an eternity where my knees began to shake and my hands balled into fists inside my pockets, Easton deflated. “Fine. You’re right. We need to talk. Not that I’m convinced I’m taking the job no matter what happens. We need to talk. I deserve answers.”

The relief that rushed over me almost had my knees buckling and I had to reach for the chair to steady myself. When I finally trusted my feet again, I used my arm to gesture toward the bank of elevators outside the restaurant’s doors.

Easton looked at our table. We’d ordered but hadn’t touched our wine and our food wasn’t out of the kitchen yet. I almost told him they could bill my room since the restaurant knew which room it was, but I bit the comment back. “They’ll bring it up later, I’m sure.” I didn’t care if they did or not. What I cared about was talking to Easton and hopefully getting him to understand why I’d left like I had.

Daisy still scared me and I wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t eat me for lunch if Easton left before talking the contract out. Scary as she was, though, Daisy didn’t scare me anywhere near the way Easton leaving without my having the chance to tell him just how much I’d fucked up all those years ago did.

The chance to right a wrong, or at least clear the air, didn’t often present itself. Not in my life, at least. If I could find a way to apologize for my mistakes, I was going to.

CHAPTER 8

EASTON

I was making a mistake. I knew that. The voice in my head telling me not to go up in the elevator with Lincoln knew that. If I’d had the chance to call Brax, he’d tell me to run the other way.

Yet there we were, in an elevator, on the way to the top floor of the hotel in awkward silence. I tried to take the opportunity to get my thoughts in order and calm down some. Not only was I frustrated at our entire interaction in the restaurant and pissed that I had let myself lose my temper, I was fighting my body’s reaction to having Lincoln so close.

No matter how in control of the situation Lincoln had tried to be, I’d continued to see the insecure submissive I’d known in college. Sure, he’d effortlessly ordered a bottle of wine I couldn’t pronounce. There was no doubt in my mind he would have been able to list off the entire wine selection at the restaurant if he needed to.

There was also no denying the nervousness and insecurity he’d been feeling. He’d fiddled with the butter knife, chewed his lip, and diverted his eyes from mine numerous times. Fidgeting had always been a telltale sign that he was anxious. When we were dating, his inability to meet my eyes had been his tell that he needed to get out of his head.

I was listening to his words but his nonverbal cues were speaking much louder than anything that came from his mouth. The longer we’d sat, the more he’d pushed back, the more I’d seen a feisty submissive who needed to be put in his place.

The elevator’s ding signaled our arrival to his floor. I’d already prepared myself for the space to be large, but what I hadn’t expected was for the entire floor to be his room. The doors slid open to a small entryway that was easily the size of my bedroom in Columbus.

Lincoln tapped the door with his phone. An audible click indicated the door was unlocked and I watched in awe as he turned the handle. Christ, I had been in nice hotels before but never anything like this.

“The fuck?” It took a second to realize the words had come from me, and it didn’t fully process until Lincoln ducked his head.

“Perks of the name.”

Being reminded of why we were here in the first place washed away the arousal that had started to simmer in my gut. My annoyance must have shown in my face because Lincoln shifted awkwardly in front of me. “Um, right. My name.”

“Among other things.” I followed Lincoln in and slipped off my dress shoes, then walked into the spacious living room.

Without a word, Lincoln took a seat on the couch. I wasn’t willing to sit next to him and took the chair. “What do you want to know?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to know why you just left. After the last thirty-six hours, I don’t know that it matters. Nothing we had was real.”

To my surprise, Lincoln’s hands slapped his thighs and he jumped up. “Bullshit! You had me! You had the real me!”

I stood as well. We were eye to eye, and a challenge sparked in Lincoln’s eyes when I stared at him. “I had what you gave me. Whatever little part of you that was. I definitely didn’t have this!” I threw my arm up and gestured around the opulent hotel room. “I didn’t get Francis. I didn’t get your story. I’ve replayed so many of our interactions, trying to see where I missed this part of you. I can’t come up with a single one.”

Lincoln ran his hands through his perfectly styled hair and growled, tugging at the waves and sending them out of place. “Because this isn’t me! I mean it is, but it isn’t.” He took a step forward, bringing himself close enough to me that I could smell mint and juniper on his breath.

I stepped closer, crowding his space more than he had crowded mine. “Really? Because you certainly wear this well.”

“I wore your marks well too. Does that mean that’s all I am or was? A submissive? A pain slut?”

“You were my boyfriend. I loved you! And you fucking left. You. Left. Me. Not the other way around.”

We were yelling at one another, every sentence bringing us closer until we were nearly nose to nose. Anger, resentment, lust, and memories were swirling through my head, muddying the waters and making it harder and harder to focus on staying mad. It felt like we were twenty years old again and our bodies were in control.

I didn’t know who moved first, but in one breath we were yelling and the next our lips had collided. There was nothing sensual about the kiss; it was angry and unplanned. Lincoln’s arms gripped my shoulders and I expected him to push me away, but he pulled me closer, his grip stronger than I remembered as his fingers dug in.

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