Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

“Faith,” Lukas’s voice sounded behind me before I could push the button. “Faith,” he said again, his arm on my elbow to spin me to face him.

I jerked out of his touch, trying to casually wipe the traitorous tears off my cheeks before he could notice.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his head tilted, those glacial blue eyes scanning my face.

“Nothing,” I said, and cleared my throat of the tightness that had made the word crack. “I forgot my laptop at the house,” I blurted out. “I need it for…” I sucked in a breath. “I need to tackle the thousands of emails crowding your inbox. I meant to grab it before I left…” I shook my head, trying like hell to be as normal as possible.

He reached for me again, and I took a step back. He noted every move.

“You’re lying,” he said, stepping toward me as I retreated. “Why are you so cross?”

“I’m not.” I didn’t mean to snap. Honestly, I was angrier with myself than with him. I was the fool who was falling for him.

“Faith—”

“Stop,” I cut him off, clenching my eyes shut. “Stop saying my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you actually care.”

He flinched as if I hit him. “Actually care?” he mocked my tone. “What the hell is this about?”

My eyes betrayed me, flashing behind him toward the closed doors of the shoot—where the photographer was no doubt growing impatient. Damn it all to hell if one of my clients was delaying a massively important shoot because of…relationship drama…I would be totally frustrated.

And now I was the source of the delay.

“You need to go back in there,” I said. “This shoot is important for your launch.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is that why you’re cross with me? The models?” He glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to me. “It’s nothing. It’s work.”

“Didn’t look like work,” I said before I could stop myself. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It doesn’t matter. This is on me, Lukas. I’m the one who…” I dropped my hand. “Never mind. You go work. And so will I.” I turned my back on him, once again reaching for that damn elevator button that would free me from making an even bigger fool of myself than I already had.

“I don’t give a damn about the shoot.” Lukas stepped in front of me before I could hit the button.

I gaped at him. “This is vital to our launch. Go back in there and handle it!”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but there was a hint of a smile on those damn full lips. “Our launch.”

“What?” I scrunched my brows together.

“You said our launch.”

I blinked up at him. “I didn’t mean to. I meant your launch. You know, the one you’ve been working your ass off on for months?”

He stepped into my space, so close the smell of him was all around me, still clinging to my skin and fresh in my lungs. I retreated until my back hit the wall next to the elevator.

“I have worked my ass off on this. The line means everything to me,” he said, his voice low, guttural. “But I will tell them all to go to hell if you asked me to.”

“I would never—”

“Then talk to me. Is it because I was gone this morning? I honestly wanted you rested…I had plans for later.” That wolfish grin was back, the heat churning in his eyes, the nearness of his body towering over mine.

It was all too much.

I pushed at him, and he let me move him so I could stomp past him. “That’s not fair,” I said, my breath coming in great huffs. “You can’t do that to me.”

“Do what to you?”

“This!” I snapped, motioning between the two of us. “You’re driving me crazy, Lukas!”

He arched a brow, slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. “I can tell.”

I glared at him and jabbed a finger toward the doors of the shoot. “Go back in there. Do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

Hurt, actual hurt flashed behind his eyes. He looked from the doors and back to me, something registering there. “This is really about…them?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, like that could protect me from whatever non-exclusive bullshit he was about to explain to me.

He laughed.

He actually laughed.

No. It was good that he did. Anger was easier than rejection. Easier than the pain of falling for someone who was totally incapable of emotional commitment.

Stupid, foolish, girl.

“Like you said,” he said. “It’s work. A job. I wasn’t…we weren’t…”

I watched the struggle on his face, never before having seen him so flustered.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Faith? How many times do I have to explain that you’re the only woman I want?” His shoulders dropped. “And after last night, how could you possibly think I’d want anything to do with them?”

“Look at me!” I blurted, motioning to my so not a supermodel outfit. I hadn’t even put makeup on in my rush this morning. “Look at them!” I pointed toward the closed doors. “We’re not even on the same planet. And it’s fine, Lukas. It really is. Because you are on that planet…and I was stupid to think I could—”

“Don’t.”

His tone was lethal and raw and enough to have me taken aback. He took one step toward me, then another when I didn’t move away. He looked down at me, his eyes fierce. “Don’t you ever compare yourself to anyone else. Ever. Again.” His eyes trailed me from head to toe and back up again—somehow my skin felt his look like a blaze. “You are everything.”

“I’m not,” I whispered. “And you,” I continued. “It’s so easy for you. To charm, to tease. I…Lukas,” I said, sighing. “I don’t know if I’ll survive you.” I rolled my eyes. “Look at me,” I said. “One glimpse of you working your game on those models and I’m crazy—”

“I wasn’t working a game.” He shook his head. “We were talking.”

And I had no clue what about. But I didn’t need to because their body language had said enough. Those eyes and smiles of his had promised enough.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. We didn’t define anything. This is all me. Go back to work. Please.”

“Sometimes I believe you’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met,” he said, shaking his head. “And other times, when it comes to seeing yourself clearly…seeing you how I see you? You’re so damn blind.”

I scoffed at him.

“Forget it,” he said. “I’m done.”

My heart lurched despite my brain knowing he needed to be done with me and get back to work.

“Good, get in there and nail that shoot.”

“No,” he said, hands held up innocently between us. “Do you want me?”

“Excuse me?” My eyes widened.

“Do you want me, Faith?” Lukas asked. “It’s an easy question.”

“I…” The words clogged my throat.

He huffed. “Do you trust me?”

That was easier.

Because while I may be hurt from the jealousy clawing at my insides, I did trust him. Because every piece of anger inside me was my fault…because I felt more for him than he did for me and that wasn’t on him.

“You know I do,” I relented.

“Completely?” he asked, eyes wary.

“If I didn’t then last night wouldn’t have happened.” Heat flooded my cheeks at the memories, and then my shoulders sank because I wondered how he felt about the night. Surely it wasn’t as monumental for him as it was for me. And why would it be? It was my first time…but for him? I shuddered.

“Good,” he said, and in a blink, he’d scooped me into his arms, walking us to the elevator and pushing the button.