Page 24 of You Make Me Feel
I swallow, because he’s right. “Because having two people vying for control never works,” I point out. “Have you readJulius Caesar?”
“I believe there were a lot more than two people involved in his death.” His smile doesn’t waver. “I’ll tell you what, if you want me off this thing so badly, let’s bet on it.”
A frown pulls at my brow. “Bet? Like flip a coin? Or play cards?” And then I remember Autumn telling me he plays poker like a professional. “Because I’m definitely not playing cards against you. I won’t let you shark me.”
He looks stupidly amused at that.
“Relax,” he says, that low, teasing note curling around every syllable. “No cards. No tricks.”
“Then what kind of bet are we talking about?” And whyam I even entertaining this? Maybe because I really want him gone.
Or maybe because the way he’s looking at me is stupidly hot.
He takes a slow step forward, close enough that I have to tilt my head to maintain eye contact. “We race for it. Winner decides if I’m on or off the committee.”
My laugh sounds sharp, even to me. “We race? What are we, ten?” I shake my head. “God, I’m an idiot, for a second I thought you were serious.” Of course he wasn’t. Haunting me night and day seems to be his favorite pastime.
He lifts a brow. “I am. Deadly serious. You win and I’ll back off.”
“I’m not running against you.” I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be a fair race. You’re a man, you’ll win.”
His gaze drops, tracing my face, my throat, before meeting my eyes again. “I’ll give you a head start,” he says softly.
My stomach contracts. It’s so close to the TikToks I’ve been watching and I have no idea what to do with that.
“How?” I ask, hating that my voice is a whisper.
“You start, and I’ll count to ten.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach twist. The way he’s speaking is too knowing, too deliberate. And that’s when it hits me.
Oh. My. God.
Heknows.
Somehow he knows about my fantasies. About the chase, the capture. That it turns me on.
What is he? A mind reader? I shift in my chair, hating how turned on I am. How it mixes with anger.
“I…” My voice trails off. My cheeks are flooding with heat.
And then I remember.Fuck. The book that I still haven’t found despite a thorough search. He was in my office before Bro’s Book Club.
And then our pseudo race the other morning. The way he murmured,“I thought so.”
I stand, the chair scraping across the floor with a harsh sound that makes him pause. “You took my book.” My voice shakes with fury and something far more dangerous. I think it might be righteousness, because this man is an asshole.
He doesn’t deny it. Of course he doesn’t. His expression stays maddeningly calm, that faint smile still curving his lips. “You left it where anyone could find it.”
I can’t believe the gall of this man. “I put it in the damn drawer. Do you steal whatever you want? Could you be any more self centered?” My heart is racing. I feel violated. Angry tears sting at my eyes but I blink them away.
My words land like a slap. The smile slips from his mouth. “I just… I was…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I say, my voice loud enough to echo around my office. “I don’t accept it. You can’t do that to people. You can’t steal their…” I trail off.Fantasies.That’s what I want to say. You can’t steal their fantasies, not even when you’re part of them. And I know I’m overreacting. I should just tell him he’s a dick and kick him out.
But I feel exposed in a way I haven’t felt since I left my ex and my old life. I can tell by the way his expression changes that he knows. That he’s overstepped the line.
That I feel like a cornered animal.
