Just One Week (Just One Song) by Stacey Lynn Page A

stop fucking running.
    Her eyes light up when she scowls at me. Her eyes sparkle as blue as the ocean when she gets all passionate about something, and even if tonight it’s because she hates me, I’ll take it. It’s better than the teary-eyed woman who was surprised to see me sitting in her hallway earlier today.
    I wait for just a second, wondering if she’s going to say anything, but she doesn’t. With a huff, she plops back into her chair and crosses her arms. The move splashes water out of the bottle, so on my way to grab the luggage we left by the front door, I toss her a towel and walk to my room, pulling my luggage behind me.
    “See you in the morning, babe.”
    To let her know that I’m serious about nothing happening tonight, I lock my own door even though what I really want to do is pick her up, haul her ass into my bed, and make love to her until she forgets why she’s even mad at me.
    She’ll come around. Mia and I argue a lot because we both like to be right all the time. But this time, I’m not backing down until I win everything I want.
    Her.
    I’m barely into my bathroom before I hear Mia’s feet stomping across the limestone flooring followed by the slam of the door.
     

     
    The sound of metal hitting stone jolts me awake in the morning and it takes me a minute to remember where I am. Outside, the sun is just starting to come up and all I can see is the hills filled with olive trees as far as the eye can see.
    I smile remembering Mia. The way her body felt beneath mine; the way she moaned while we climaxed together the night before on the plane. I’m a prick, but at least I got my shot to be with her before she got pissed me at me.
    I’ll make it up to her today.
    The loud crashing sound of metal jolts me out of bed again and then I frown, realizing Mia is probably still pissed at me, but it doesn’t mean I can’t try to seduce the anger out of her.
    With that thought in mind, I ignore my shorts in my suitcase and walk out to the living room to find the source of the crashing noise, clothed only in my white boxer briefs. Mia’s favorite.
    She’s standing on her tiptoes in the suite’s small kitchen, wearing … oh hell, she’s wearing a plain white t-shirt that is practically see through and as she reaches up to the top shelf, the bottom of the shirt rides up so I can see a hint of ass cheeks sticking out and an instant dick-hardening, teasingly small glimpse of her pale pink lace underwear.
    I take a deep breath, thinking of baseball stats to calm the heaviness in my shorts before walking up behind her.
    Slowly, I reach an arm over her. My hand barely brushes the skin of her finger as I grab a juice glass and a coffee mug that she must have been searching for, causing that hideous racket.
    “Good morning, Mia.” I watch the light hairs on her arms stick up and briefly brush my nose against her soft blonde hair, inhaling her scent before quickly stepping away.
    She might still be pissed, but she’s still affected by me. I hide my smile and walk around her, starting the coffee pot.
    “How’d you sleep?” I ask her once my coffee is filled and I’m sitting at the kitchen table. She hasn’t spoken to me yet. She’s sat perfectly straight, sipping her orange juice and flipping through her tablet mindlessly.
    “Fine.” And then, finally, she looks at me. Her eyes are pale blue and there are slight purple rings under her eyes. She’s full of shit. She didn’t sleep well at all last night, and it’s obvious. For a second I feel like crap for adding stress to her already shitty day yesterday, but I shrug it off. Mostly because my dick thinks she looks gorgeous with her slightly smudged mascara, flushed cheeks from being tired, and messed up hair. And the shirt. It’s obvious she’s not wearing a bra. I thought I was playing hard ball by walking around in my underwear, but she’s just playing dirty.
    “Chase?” she asks softly, and I catch a twinge of humor in her voice.
    I