Obsessed

Brighton throws me a quizzed look.

"The powder room," I mouth under my breath, not wanting to interrupt Liz's tale which now includes a heat seeking helicopter and tear gas.

Brighton motions for a man standing near the hallway entrance. He comes over to guide me towards a much needed, temporary break from the evening.

I close the heavy door of the restroom behind me. I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is a bit less controlled than it was when I left my apartment. I wet my fingertips lightly and comb them through the stray ends. After applying a fresh coat of mascara I gingerly re-apply my lipstick. I look down at my phone to gauge how much time I can spend in here hiding just as there's a gentle knock on the door.

"Dammit," I whisper under my breath, certain that another woman has taken my lead and removed herself from that awful dinner chatter.

I take one last look at myself in the mirror. I adjust the front of my dress, smooth my hands over the skirt and open the door.

Jax

is blocking the doorway. He takes a step in. I take a step back. He closes the door behind him, locking it.

"I decided to come looking for you, Ivy." His breath is peppered with the aroma of wine.

"I was trying to escape."

"From me?"

"No." I shake my head slowly. "Not from you."

"Good." He moves closer to me, forcing me to retreat until my back is against the wall.

I can feel his entire body pressed against mine. I struggle to catch my breath.

"Where's Mark?" His question rattles me.

"Mark?" I can barely form the word.

"Your fiancée? You said he was your inspiration in The Dialogue piece."

I'm speechless. This is the last person in the world I want to discuss Mark with. The room feels claustrophobic. I've been wary of discussing Mark with anyone. It's too raw and too painful.

"You're not wearing his ring." Jax has obviously indulged in just as much wine as Liz, if not more. "Is it over?"

"I'd rather not talk about him." I try to sound determined.

"Why not?" He leans down, his forehead grazing mine.

"It's personal." I try in vain to push him away from me. He swiftly grabs my wrists, holding them tightly against the wall. I don't struggle, my body betraying my mind's desire to break free.

"Answer the question, Ivy."

"It's none of your business." I spit back.

'You're wrong. It's more my business than you know." I feel his lips barely graze mine as I struggle to absorb his words.

"How the hell is my relationship with Mark your business?" I fight the desire to push myself into him. The nearness of his lips is tempting me even though his words are incensing me.

"I don't like complications." His breath caresses my cheek. "Mark is a complication."

"A complication? What does that mean?"

"You belong in my bed," he says it with purpose as if it's already fact.

I take a deep breath. My mind is telling me that he's a stranger yet my body is agreeing with his bold declaration. "I don't even know you," I whisper.