34. Renee
He’s bringing me to my room. Or to his. I don’t care.
Because this means I win. He isn’t stronger than I am. He wants me, and I want him, and I want him to have me.
Although it would be easier to convince myself of all that if he weren’t scowling so deep it looks like a mask on his face. “West? Ton?”
Hm. Maybe I am a teensy weensy bit drunker than I thought.
He turns the scowl to point it down at me. “What?”
There’s an edge to his tone that hurts me. I recoil. “What is your problem?”
He grits his teeth and tears his gaze away from me like he can’t even bear to look in my direction. I know that face. I hate that face.
“That fucking… that fucking animal… He put his hands all over you.” He shakes his head in disgust too powerful for words.
I’m about to tell him it’s not his problem. That’s true.
I’m about to tell him he shouldn’t care. That’s true, too.
I’m also about to tell him that I want him to kiss me and strip me and hold me and fuck me without ever looking away, and that I’ve been waiting for him to do exactly that, and that even when I’m furious with him, I can’t stop thinking about him, and that when he laughs and smiles, it’s like seeing the sun for the first time in weeks of rain, and that I know he’s angry all the time but he doesn’t have to be because I’m here and he’s with me and as long as that’s the case then everything will be okay.
But as true as that is…
It’s the last thing in the world I can let myself say.
“Thank you for saving me,” I say instead. A truce is a truce, after all. It really was hot, what he did. I felt safe. I felt loved.
Weston looks down at me and shakes his head. Something swims in his eyes, and maybe this is just the alcohol talking, but I swear it’s a ripple of the same emotion surging through me right now. All the things we cannot say.
“From now on, if you want to act cheap and easy, don’t do it in front of the team or in front of me. It makes you look bad.”
“Fuck you.” But I don’t even have the energy to say it with gusto. I’m just tired. Physically tired. Emotionally tired. Tired of the never-ending Weston Scott roller coaster.
The elevator doors slide open. He propels me out next to him, then walks with me down the hallway to my room, where takes the keycard from my clumsy hand and opens my door for me.
“Sleep it off. And maybe tomorrow, try to act a little more professional.” Then he lets go of me and steps back.
I turn in the doorway to face him. He’s gorgeous when he’s angry. An avenging angel. Eyes dark, shoulders tensed. Now’s the moment! screams the voice in my head. Say all that stuff! Tell him there’s something here!
I open my mouth to do it…
But right then, the door swings shut in my face.
It feels like the universe saying no.
I pace aimlessly around my room. As tired as I was just a minute ago, I’m suddenly rippling with energy. There’s just a thin adjoining door separating me from Weston right now, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be the one to open it.
The problem is, my engine is revved. My skin is flushed, my lips swollen.
I strip off my dress and underwear and leave them strewn around the room. But even when I’m naked and the A/C is running full blast, I’m not cooling down.
I know the solution. I’m just a little reluctant to use it.
But then my hand grazes my thigh. It’s smooth and soft and it’s easy—way, way too easy—to imagine it’s Weston’s hand doing the rubbing.
God help me.
Asshole or not, I want him. I want him to strip me naked and lick my skin. I want him to devour me and I want to see what his face looks like when he comes inside of me.
The thought brings a pained moan to my lips as I flip open the suitcase at the end of the bed. At first, I pretend I’m looking for pajamas.
But then I see it.
The vibrator that Sutton sent me is long, dick-shaped, and thick. And right now, more than pajamas, I need to get off. In lieu of the man next door, this will have to do.
I slide it out of the suitcase, run my hand over it, then glide it down my body. It’s not even turned on yet, but Lord knows I am. I’m about to come from first contact alone.
I bring it back and flick the little button at the base. It hums to life in my hands, vicious enough to make me chew my lip in breathless anticipation.
I trace it back down. Between my breasts, down my belly, then teasing myself around the creases of my hips. My whole body is trembling from head to toe. Every cell clenched up and buzzing.
I haven’t even touched my clit yet. But when I finally do, a surge of pleasure crackles through me. I’m standing against the post at the foot of the bed with my back leaned against it, but it’s too much to ask for me to remain standing under my own power. I need to lie down.
I flop back onto the bed, spread my legs, and look at the door that connects the two rooms. That stupid fucking door. The cause of and solution to all my problems tonight.
I pass the toy over my clit again and I nearly crack my spine in two bucking up at the sensation. I’ve been denying myself for too long now. Even with the memory of Weston’s lips consuming my pussy in that laundry room, which is enough spank bank material to power every orgasm for the rest of my life, I’ve been in self-imposed celibacy.
No, I’ve told myself every time my thoughts have strayed towards masturbating to the hottest moment of my life. Don’t you dare.
But the tequila has silenced that pesky little narc. All I’m hearing now is, Yes. Yes. Yes.
I slide the vibrator down, closer, then back up to my clit again, and moan again. Rinse and repeat. My moans get louder every time. The pleasure is exquisite and it also helps that I’m picturing someone else’s hand working the vibrator.
I let my eyes flutter closed. Images flood me like they’ve been waiting for their chance.
Weston’s hands dimpling the skin of my thighs as he forced them apart.
Weston’s fingers teasing my aching nipple into a painful peak.
Weston’s hair, thick and lush, as I wove my hands through it and held him close.
Weston Scott. Weston Scott. Weston Scott.
Then, a guttural rasp from beyond: “Don’t stop.”
Oh, holy fuck. That’s the hottest part yet. The only problem?
It wasn’t part of my fantasy.
That voice was real.