Unbreak My Hart (The Notorious Harts 4)

‘Not your jam?’ He leans forward a little, his eyes so speculative I feel their warmth across my skin. ‘And what is your ‘jam’?’

It’s a question to which I have no answer. Outside of work, there’s nothing particularly interesting about me that I can tell him. ‘What are you doing here?’ I fix him with my best get to the point stare, which almost always works.

A line forms between his brows. ‘I...wanted to see you again. To talk to you.’

‘I don’t do that.’

A quirk of his lips. ‘You seem to be talking just fine to me. So tell me, is it only men you’ve slept with that you insist on ignoring?’

‘Did I hurt your feelings, Earl?’ I respond with the kind of voice you might use to a wounded four-year-old.

‘No.’ His retort is razor-sharp and, although it’s the answer I was hoping for, something lashes me. Disappointment? What the hell is happening to me? I want him to go away again, and I want him to stop looking at me as though he’s trying to peer into all the recesses of my soul, and I also want, more than words can express, to fuck him right now.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to quell that desire. Because I meant what I said—I don’t do repeat performances. Second times lead to expectations and mess, and I don’t want any part of that.

When I open my eyes he’s standing up and that cements it. I really don’t want him to go. Panic kicks inside me. What the hell?

‘Have lunch with me.’ He holds a hand out, expecting me to take it, and I stare at that hand with a lurch of frustration. What would it be like to be the kind of woman who could put hers in it, smile up at him and nod? To act as though lunch with this guy is just a simple, casual commitment?

‘I said no.’ I stand up then, bringing us toe to toe, and as soon as I’ve done it I realise my body is ignoring my ‘no second times’ rule. I press a hand to his chest, feeling his strength and warmth pass through my skin, certainty locking into place.

Once more won’t hurt.

He stays still, watching me in that way he has, not moving away but not responding either, leaving it completely up to me.

‘I don’t want lunch.’

Finally, his voice husky, he murmurs, ‘What do you want?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?’

His chest is moving faster, anticipation speeding up his breath. ‘Avery, I came here because we need to talk.’

A small smile shifts over my face. ‘I’m not interested in talking to you.’

CHAPTER FOUR

I’M TRYING TO hold onto sense and rational thought but her kiss shoots everything out of my mind, putting my body and my over-opinionated cock front and centre. I try to fight it, to resist desire, but then she lifts her hand to the back of my neck, pressing her breasts flat to my chest, and suddenly a thousand excuses fire into my brain.

We’ve already done this, so what’s the harm in doing it again?

I’ll talk to her afterwards.

We both want this.

But I need to remember my friends, the men to whom I am fiercely loyal, and the reason I came here. I need to stop this...

‘Avery—’ There’s doubt in my voice.

She senses it, her eyes narrowing. ‘What? You don’t want this?’ She leans forward a little so her breasts brush my chest. A groan thickens at the base of my throat.

I want her. I just know I can’t have her.

‘It’s important.’

Her laugh is just a soft sound. ‘I just met you. There’s nothing more important between us than this.’

She’s wrong. I need to tell her the truth. But then her fingers slip into my waistband and she’s purring, ‘Fuck me now and I’ll think about talking—later.’