Page 113 of Wrecked
“That’s why I don’t have a boyfriend. I can’t stomach all that emotional drama.”
He chuffed out a laugh, but the joy didn’t reach his eyes. Why tell her he missed her, kiss her crazy good, yet not agree to another hookup?
“I’ve gotta get back out there,” she said.
For as revved as they’d been three minutes ago, the sexual tension had been replaced with a stilted awkwardness. He hadn’t worn the business suit because he didn’t want to play with her.
Pushing out the melancholy, she opened the door, and headed down the hall. She wanted him to stop her and tell her what was bothering him.
But he let her go.
One of the members waved her over. There was a problem with the green-screen backdrop at the photo station. As she got busy working on it, she glanced around for Hawk and saw him chatting it up with a group of women.
Her heart broke. She wasn’t enough for him. He was used to variety. Maybe role playing wasn’t his jam. She might not have been submissive enough for him. She didn’t know, but she was gonna do what she did best.
Push him out of her thoughts and power on.
Last call came and went. When the club had emptied out for the night, Tony moseyed inside. “Hey, guys, I’m taking off, unless you need me for something.”
“Can you check the rooms with me?” Addison asked.
She wasn’t gonna end up like her sister, a sobbing emotional wreck because she’d gotten dumped.
“I’ll do it with you, babe,” Hawk said.
“I got this,” she replied. “Tony, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” Tony replied.
They cleared the rooms in record time. Easy to do when the attraction isn’t there. When they came back downstairs, Hawk was sitting alone at the bar, nursing a sparkling water. The staff had cleared out. She locked the door behind Tony and walked back into the room.
For a split second, she felt directionless and lost.Should I sit beside him? Should I go behind the bar? Should I not even mention the role play?
“Come sit with me,” he said.
She pulled up a stool. He’d poured her a sparkling water. “What’s this for?”
“We’re going on a mission in twenty-four, so I’m not drinking.”
“The rule is twelve hours,” she replied.
“I’m flying the chopper, so it’s a minimum of twenty-four for me.”
She sipped the water, then took another sip before setting the glass down.
“I don’t want to go upstairs,” he said.
Like she hadn’t figured that out for herself. “No problem,” she said, breaking eye contact to stare at the never-ending stream of bubbles in her glass.
“Come home with me,” he said. “I’ll throw on a suit and we can play out your scene.”
She stilled.
He waited.
She had to say something. “But we’re here and we’ve got a bunch of empty suites.”
“I’m just gonna say it, straight out,” he said. “I’m all about the no-strings hookups, but it’s different with you. We’re friends—close friends. We work together. We go on intense missions where we have each other’s backs.” He chugged half the water. “Fuck, I’m not good with this.”
