Dear Heart, I Hate You

“I’d love to.”

“It’ll be fun. I promise.”

“I know it will,” she said with a smile.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I noted how late it was. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. While I had no qualms about staying up with Jules until dawn, I knew that she had to attend a bunch of meetings tomorrow—or later today, technically.

When her gaze followed mine, her shoulders slumped. “I should probably go.”

I knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it suck any less. “You could stay,” I offered, knowing she’d never say yes. But you couldn’t blame a man for trying. You can’t win the game if you don’t play.

“Tempting,” she said with a grin before giving me a sweet kiss. “But I should probably sleep in my own room. That way, I’ll actually sleep.”

I knew that answer was coming too. Still sucked, because I wasn’t ready to let her go.

“Give me your phone,” I said as she pushed off the bed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head before she tossed her phone at me without question.

So trusting, I thought. Like she had nothing to hide. And maybe she didn’t.

“Where did you throw my shirts?” she asked.

“In the trash.” I smirked as I turned her phone on, noting the lack of a password, and programmed my number in before sending myself a text so I’d have her number too.

“Ha-ha,” she said sarcastically. “Found them! And not in the trash.”

My phone vibrated with my own text message as Jules pulled her tank top over her body and covered herself up. It was a damn shame to hide those curves. Pushing myself from the bed, I found my own shirt on the floor and pulled it on.

As she slipped on her blouse, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Walking you to your room.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, giving me an out I had no intention of taking.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

The smile that brightened her face reassured me that even though she’d said I didn’t have to, she wanted me to. I wasn’t a total dick when it came to women. Hell, maybe I was when I wasn’t interested in them, but I genuinely enjoyed Jules. She brought out the gentleman in me, and I was fairly certain men like that were sorely lacking back in Los Angeles, which only made me want to be more of one.

If Jules and I were never going to see each other again, I’d send her home with memories of that really hot, sweet guy she met in Boston. The one she compared all others to.

Wait—was that my ego talking or my pride? It might have been a combination of both, but I couldn’t be sure. My head was a little messed up, alternating between the reality of our situation and some fantasyland where no one existed except for the two of us.

I held her close as we walked to the elevator, and once the door shut behind us, I attacked her mouth with mine. I wasn’t sure what it was about Jules and elevators, but the second those doors slammed together, I wanted her pressed against the mirrored wall, giving herself to me. All my self-control was lost when I had her in a confined space like this.

We exited the elevator and when we arrived at her room, I kissed her softly as I wrapped my hand in her long blond hair.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” she whispered, almost as if she was embarrassed to admit it.

Hell, I wasn’t sure at all what she was thinking. Maybe she thought I didn’t have a nice time because we didn’t have sex?

“I’m sorry we didn’t . . . you know,” she said, stumbling over her words. “I mean, I’m not sorry. I’m just sorry if you were disappointed.”

There it was. I loved how she seemed to say what she felt when most people, myself included, kept those things locked inside.

“I’m not disappointed. I had a great time with you tonight. I mean that,” I said, her tenseness easing with my words.

“I did too.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”