The door swings open, and she glares at me, hands on hips. “Don’t call me that.”
“Um . . .okay.” I step forward, only to be blocked by the hand pressed into my chest. By the wall of fire Sinclaire has raised between us.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say from out there.” She leans forward to peer into the hall. “And say it fast and quiet.”
“I wanted to explain about the book.” I shake my head. “I had no idea Merrin was your mother when I signed with her.”
“Or maybe you wouldn’t have pitched her a book about fucking her daughter at a swing party?” Sinclaire’s eyes blaze into me with the heat and force of a blow torch. “What was it she called me? A little hussy?”
“I didn’t think of you that way at all. I didn’t write you . . .the character that way. It’s loosely based on our encounter, but not exactly.”
“Oh, so did you miss your flight?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And that really was your brother and sister-in-law, correct?
“Of course.”
“And you did fall asleep in the office during the swing party and I did sit on you and we did fuck.” She touches her chin, fake-contemplating. “Let me know when I get to the part where you didn’t put all my damn business in the streets.”
“I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
The words just slipped out, or maybe the truth shoves them out, but I don’t want to hold them back from her.
“That’s why I wrote the story,” I say. “When it turned out better than I thought, I started submitting it.”
I reach up to rub my knuckle over her cheek, but she pulls back and emits a low growl.
“Sorry.” I put up both hands, the universal sign of I’m harmless. “I was just—”
“Don’t touch me.” She drags both hands over her face and tips her head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I cannot believe this is happening. When does this book release?”
“In three months, but early copies are already out.” I smile, and allow some of my pride to show through. “Reviews have been great.”
“People already have this?” She turns back into the bedroom, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. “I can’t . . .if anyone ever found out.”
She turns horrified, worried eyes to me. “If my parents find out. Shit.”
I step into the room and gently take her by the arm, stopping her pacing and turning her to face me. I should have thought this through. The moment I touch her, the idea of reassuring her flies out the window and all I can focus on is how soft she is under my hands, how that enticing smell is even stronger when we’re this close, how her full lips might taste.
“We never kissed,” I say.
Her brows lift and she jerks away from me. “We did quite enough. I guess it happened so fast, we didn’t get around to kissing.”
“It wasn’t fast. I ate your pussy and sucked your nipples. Left marks on your neck and—”
“Dear God.” She rushes over and closes the bedroom door with a firm click. “Go stand on the dinner table and scream it so my parents will know what a careless whore their daughter actually is.”
“You weren’t.” I risk taking her hand, gently rubbing the thrumming pulse in her wrist. “I could tell you’d never done anything like that before, and I’d wager you haven’t since.”
“No, I definitely hadn’t and I definitely haven’t again. I’ve been too busy divorcing Trey’s sorry ass to even think about . . .” She lowers her gaze to our joined hands, swallowing hard. “To even think about what we did.”
She’s lying. I know she’s lying because whatever burned between us that night, is just as hot and volatile right now. If I slipped my hands in her panties, she might even be wet. My dick, predictably, stiffens at the thought.
Her expression contorts to disbelief and she jerks her hand away, gesturing at my crotch. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I take her hand and press it to my erection. “This is what you do to me, and I think I have the same effect on you.”