Against my better judgment, I turned and looked at him. “Oh, and what is that?” I couldn’t wait to hear the ego-fest spew about to come out of his mouth—about how I found him so irresistibly sexy that the mere thought of kissing that scruffy mouth made the floor underneath me buckle. Made my throat dry. Made me shift uneasily in my seat due to the funny feeling down in my lady parts.
“You’re hooked on the game, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“I logged in to check on that key code I gave you. You have a nineteenth-level character already.”
I took a deep breath, relief washing over me. “Yeah, I guess you caught me. That game is damn addictive. Now I know why you boys are so filthy rich.”
He grinned. “And it seems you aren’t the only one who’s been named after a character in a fairy tale.”
Heat washed over me and I looked away. Shit. He’d figured out that I’d modeled the Beast after him. And I knew for a fact he’d overheard me refer to him as “Beast” at least once.
“Well, you’re beastly most of the time.”
He sank back, stretched his muscular arms across the back of the sofa beside him and, with a grin dancing on his lips, gazed into the fire. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Did you deserve it?”
He smirked, still staring into the fire. “Yeah, a good part of the time.” His eyes wandered back to me. They were the color of molten amber in the firelight. “Like I’ve said before, nice guys finish last. I learned the hard way, being a reformed nice guy and all.”
I watched him as I rubbed a hand over my arm. “Hmm. So there truly is no kind heart buried under the beastly exterior?”
His eyes narrowed at the fire. “I had that organ removed years ago.”
Now here was a story. At least it seemed so. Or maybe I hoped that he was more than just a brilliant kid who made a lot of money and exploited both his wealth and good looks to live a rock star’s life, a different woman in his bed every week. And it occurred to me, as it had been about a month now since our anonymous tryst at Comic-Con…had he been dating his bevy of models and actresses in the meantime? And sleeping with them?
I already knew they sent him sexy texts at all hours of the day. The thought of them—whoever they were—made my blood boil, even as I reminded myself that I had no claim to him. We’d hooked up once, and it had been out of this world amazing but likely he regretted it.
Well, that made two of us. I regretted it too. Sometimes.
“Is that why you don’t date women for very long?”
Those eyes shifted to me. “What’s this, more true confession time?”
“I think you owe me a few answers for all the ones I gave you.”
“I’m not talking about my social life.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
I raised my brows. This was only making me more determined to pursue the subject.
“Okay, then I have another burning question,” I said.
“Shoot.”
“Did you know who I was at Comic-Con that night we went back to my room?”
His mouth set and he didn’t look at me. The silence almost rang in the air between us, thickening it with that same tension as before. After a few minutes, it became clear he wasn’t going to answer me, nor even acknowledge that I’d ever asked the question.
And that, quite frankly, pissed me off. I popped out of my seat and his laser intense eyes found mine. With a shrug, I moved past him toward my servant’s quarters. “Well, if you don’t have the balls to answer me…I’ll be going.”
I turned and walked down the hall, aware of the fact that he’d gotten up from the couch and followed me. Before grabbing the doorknob, I turned to him. His face was inches away, eyes blazing into mine.
And I couldn’t breathe. He took another step forward until I was backed against my door and his hot breath was searing my cheeks. Those eyes burned with white-hot emotion—anger, passion, even hunger. I couldn’t force myself to tear my gaze away from his. I was like a cornered animal, staring my predator down, the adrenaline coursing through me.
Jordan placed a hand on the wall on either side of my head. That smell…suede and sage. He leaned in close and my chest tightened. My heart pounded a thready beat in my throat.
“Yes,” he finally said.
I raised my brows, both unsurprised by the answer—I’d suspected it the moment he refused to answer me—and angry at yet another betrayal.