pleasure.
Wasn’t happening. Grimly, she remembered last night. Rather than depress herself again, she shook the thought away.
“Yeah. I have to run, grab a shower.” She held up her phone. “Tyler called. I told him I’d be there in an hour. If you need more time to get ready, I’ll have him pick me up.”
“I’ll take you.”
“It’s no problem for him to—”
“I said, I’ll take you,” he snapped, his stare roaming her flushed face and sweat-damp T-shirt.
Was he still pissed about last night or was this about Tyler?
“Fine. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in thirty.”
She spun away, wanting the sanctuary of her bedroom, the privacy of a shut door so she didn’t have to shut away the pain of his rejection.
Luc grabbed her arm and held her back. “About last night . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spy on you. The open door was—”
“Not an invitation,” she lied. The truth would just get his back up. “Just like the guest bathroom door not locking properly, my bedroom door doesn’t shut all the way. It’s an old house. But I appreciate the apology. I’m sorry, too, for barging in during your shower. I only meant to make sure you had a towel and . . .”
He grimaced. “Look, I’m not going to lie. We share amazing chemistry. You turn me on more than anyone ever has.”
Luc didn’t look at all happy about that fact.
“But you’re not into me , just my body. Got it.” And it hurt like hell.
His grip on her arm tightened. “That’s not it. Yesterday, I discovered great qualities I didn’t know you possessed.” He sighed, raked a hand through his long hair. “It’s that . . . what I want isn’t what I need. So if I’m cranky and irritable this week, it’s because you have me tied up in a thousand sexual knots, and I’m trying to do the right thing.”
The right thing being not having sex with her.
Did Luc think it was impossible to have an emotional attachment to someone who owned a club where women took off their clothes? Whatever. She still wanted him. Wanted him to want her. Burn for her. Because everything inside her yearned for Luc, his sultry smile, his talent, the way he’d made her feel more special in one night than any man ever had. She wasn’t willing to give up.
“Does this have something to do with the woman you’re seeing?”
“Yes.”
Damn, how could one word hurt so much?
“If you picked her, I’m sure she’s a great girl.” She tugged her arm free. “I’d better get ready.”
As she darted down the hall, Luc gave chase and pushed her against the shadowed wall. “She is. And that’s not a reflection on you. You’re just different.”
In other words, she’s not a stripper .
“Sure. Fine. See you downstairs in thirty minutes.” She eased out from between the wall and his hard body, all but running to her bedroom, and slammed the door.
Once inside the bathroom, she shut that door—locked it—then leaned against it. And closed her eyes as tears spilled. She swiped them away with an angry fist.
Fucking hopeless. She sucked at relationships. No, strike that. She’d never really had one. From age fifteen on, her life had been a struggle to make ends meet, put food in her belly and a roof over her head. She’d learned how to read people over the years, but not in a romantic capacity. As far as she could tell, Luc was being honest with her. There was someone else he thought was better for him.
How the hell did she compete with that? Should she even try? Probably not, but something inside her kept screaming that she needed him.
Luc admitted to wanting her more than anyone. It was a start. Maybe they had more than great chemistry, and this was his body’s way of saying so. It was possible this other woman was “better” for him because Luc knew her. With just one hot night between them, Alyssa realized he wasn’t familiar with her as a person.
She needed to keep enticing him; that was a given. Using her advantage was critical.
Wasn’t happening. Grimly, she remembered last night. Rather than depress herself again, she shook the thought away.
“Yeah. I have to run, grab a shower.” She held up her phone. “Tyler called. I told him I’d be there in an hour. If you need more time to get ready, I’ll have him pick me up.”
“I’ll take you.”
“It’s no problem for him to—”
“I said, I’ll take you,” he snapped, his stare roaming her flushed face and sweat-damp T-shirt.
Was he still pissed about last night or was this about Tyler?
“Fine. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in thirty.”
She spun away, wanting the sanctuary of her bedroom, the privacy of a shut door so she didn’t have to shut away the pain of his rejection.
Luc grabbed her arm and held her back. “About last night . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spy on you. The open door was—”
“Not an invitation,” she lied. The truth would just get his back up. “Just like the guest bathroom door not locking properly, my bedroom door doesn’t shut all the way. It’s an old house. But I appreciate the apology. I’m sorry, too, for barging in during your shower. I only meant to make sure you had a towel and . . .”
He grimaced. “Look, I’m not going to lie. We share amazing chemistry. You turn me on more than anyone ever has.”
Luc didn’t look at all happy about that fact.
“But you’re not into me , just my body. Got it.” And it hurt like hell.
His grip on her arm tightened. “That’s not it. Yesterday, I discovered great qualities I didn’t know you possessed.” He sighed, raked a hand through his long hair. “It’s that . . . what I want isn’t what I need. So if I’m cranky and irritable this week, it’s because you have me tied up in a thousand sexual knots, and I’m trying to do the right thing.”
The right thing being not having sex with her.
Did Luc think it was impossible to have an emotional attachment to someone who owned a club where women took off their clothes? Whatever. She still wanted him. Wanted him to want her. Burn for her. Because everything inside her yearned for Luc, his sultry smile, his talent, the way he’d made her feel more special in one night than any man ever had. She wasn’t willing to give up.
“Does this have something to do with the woman you’re seeing?”
“Yes.”
Damn, how could one word hurt so much?
“If you picked her, I’m sure she’s a great girl.” She tugged her arm free. “I’d better get ready.”
As she darted down the hall, Luc gave chase and pushed her against the shadowed wall. “She is. And that’s not a reflection on you. You’re just different.”
In other words, she’s not a stripper .
“Sure. Fine. See you downstairs in thirty minutes.” She eased out from between the wall and his hard body, all but running to her bedroom, and slammed the door.
Once inside the bathroom, she shut that door—locked it—then leaned against it. And closed her eyes as tears spilled. She swiped them away with an angry fist.
Fucking hopeless. She sucked at relationships. No, strike that. She’d never really had one. From age fifteen on, her life had been a struggle to make ends meet, put food in her belly and a roof over her head. She’d learned how to read people over the years, but not in a romantic capacity. As far as she could tell, Luc was being honest with her. There was someone else he thought was better for him.
How the hell did she compete with that? Should she even try? Probably not, but something inside her kept screaming that she needed him.
Luc admitted to wanting her more than anyone. It was a start. Maybe they had more than great chemistry, and this was his body’s way of saying so. It was possible this other woman was “better” for him because Luc knew her. With just one hot night between them, Alyssa realized he wasn’t familiar with her as a person.
She needed to keep enticing him; that was a given. Using her advantage was critical.
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