Yes.
“It, well, yes. But it’s nothing serious. I won’t be seeing him again.”
“What? Brook. The guy flew you across the world in his private jet to stay in a resort right in front of the Matterhorn. What’s wrong with him? Small dick? Can’t use it? Does he not go down on you?”
I closed my eyes, pinching my nose.
“Yes. He does it all. Well.”
“Well, while you sort it out, I’m going to work out the bridesmaid dress I’ll be wearing.” Jasmine chastised. “Unless the man is gay, I’m missing something.”
Yes, she was—a wholelotof somethings.
Despite me feeling, earlier in the day, that Travis was the perfect man (sans the sex club and no desire to commit), I’d known this wasn’t going anywhere. But he asked me to stay at his apartment. To pack up Luna and move in for a week.
Which would lead to another week...
And another.
I was certain we both knew it.
What I didn’t know was that he had an agenda. He’d lied about who he was and why he’d shown interest in me.
For the story.
Clearly.
He’s Leo Taylor’s son.
But he’s looking at me the way he has all weekend. Hungry. Craving. Dominant.
“Travis, this is wrong.” I shake my head, dipping my eyes.
“Bullshit. I had my mouth on your clit twelve hours ago. Now look at me.”
I shake my head.
“Look at me!”
Goddamn him.
I lift my face and glare at him, my nipples hard and my sex wet. I’ve fallen for this man, and I’m angry.
But there’s also the journalist in me who wants to know why. I need to know his full story.
I want to hear that he wantedme,at least a little, and wasn’t just using me completely. That I meant something. That he wouldn’t have just fucked some woman who could tell his story.
That maybe he feels something...
Would it matter?
I knew this relationship was just sex, so I never needed him to fall for me. But I never expected to learn the man I was sleeping with and let fly me out of the country wasnotwho he said he was. That he was using me like some cheap whore.
“I need you to step away, take your hands off me, and then I’ll give you two-and-a-half minutes to tell me why you did this.”
His hands tighten around my hips, and I close my eyes for a second, drawing in the familiar masculine scent mixed with cigar smoke. When I open them again, I find his narrowed, as if in pain. Then I realize it’s the predator inside fighting to overpower me.
“Don’t kiss me,” I whisper.
