Blindsided (11 page)

“Jesus Christ.” I run my fingers through my hair and shake my head.

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it? How many times have you said a variation of that speech to a girl? How many times have you meant it?”

“Hundreds!” I yell. “I’ve said it hundreds of damn times, but I’ve never meant it half as much as I do now.” My eyes crash into hers. “And now you need to do me a favor and shut the hell up so I can kiss you.”

“You think I’m gonna let you kiss me now?”

“Who said you had to let me? I’m gonna do it anyway.”

I grab her back to me and crush my lips to hers. She tastes the same as yesterday, sweeter even, but this time, it’s hot. Hotter than before because I can feel the anger radiating off her, yet she’s not pushing me away. She’s tightly gripping my shirt and sinking her body into mine.

My hand snakes into her hair, holding her face to mine, and I flick my tongue across her lips. She responds by nipping at my bottom lip. My cock hardens inside my shorts and presses into her stomach, and nothing is more tempting right now than pulling her shorts down and sinking inside her.

“I still hate you,” she mutters, dipping her face away from me.

I smile. “Yeah, your dislike is obvious.”

“I’m not afraid to kick your ass.”

“I wouldn’t. I’d probably like it.”

She fails to hide her laugh and pushes away from me. Her hair is mussed where my hand has been, and her eyes are heavy, the way they were last night. She sighs and pulls her hair back from her face.

“That wasn’t exactly how I envisioned this conversation going.”

I follow her as she starts to run. “Babe, we haven’t had a single conversation that’s gone the way I’ve envisioned.”

“That’s because your conversations don’t involve talking.” She glances over her shoulder at me.

“They involve a type of conversation,” I hedge.

“‘Oh, Corey!’ ‘Oh yes!’ and ‘Right there!’ do not make a conversation.”

“There are plenty of other things said.”

“I have no desire to learn what you say to the whores you pick up.”

“I haven’t picked any ‘whores’ up since I met you.”

“Yeah? So you went home alone the night of my birthday?”

I don’t say a word.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. So take that last sentence and shove it up your ass, Corey Jackson. And”—she stops and turns to me outside my house—“when you respect me enough not to lie to me two minutes after kissing me, you can come and find me. Until then, go fuck yourself.”

I knock on her door and wait. There’s no answer, so I push the bell. Shit. Two days of not talking to her and I’m done. I hate that she’s so mad at me.

“Leah!” I yell, banging on the door again. “I know you’re home!”

The door opens slowly and she peeks her face out. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you. No, I mean it. Actually talk.” I put my foot in the door so she can’t close it.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Please. Five minutes. That’s all.” I grab the door. “I won’t even touch you.”

Her blue eyes bore into mine for a few beats. “Fine.” She pulls the door open and lets me in.

I follow her through to the kitchen. She pours a glass of orange juice and leans against the side.

“Five minutes. Talk,” she demands.

“I want to apologize,” I say quietly.

“I’m sorry. Did you just say
apologize
?”

“Yeah. I was an asshole, and you didn’t deserve that. So…I’m sorry.” I’ve never apologized to a girl in my life, yet she’s had two. She’s fucking ruining me.

“Well, apology accepted, I guess. Now you can leave.”

The bell rings and she grabs the package on the table. I stand in the doorway as she signs something and hands it to the courier. Then she turns without shutting the door and looks at me.

“Well?”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m not done talkin’.”

“I am,” she replies defiantly. “I’m not interested in talking to someone who repeatedly brings out the worst in me.”

“You bring out the best in me, darlin’, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet.”

She slams the door shut and storms past me back into the kitchen. “That, cowboy, is probably because I’m the only girl who refuses to take your shit.”

“And because you’re the only girl who gives me a reason to be something other than what I’ve been.”

“That’s cute if you think I’m falling for that. Words don’t mean a thing, Corey. Actions speak a million times louder than words ever could.” She leans against the kitchen counter again. “You tell me so many things, but your actions don’t back them up.”

“You’re right,” I concede. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m about to eat all the Cheetos in the house and binge-watch Twilight.”

I raise an eyebrow, but she’s deadly serious. “I have a better idea.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re not going to romance your way into my pants, Corey. I wish you would understand that. You’re not going to fuck me then walk away from me. That’s the end of the story.” She stares at me, the truth of her words evident in the harshness of her gaze. “Either we’re friends or we’re nothing at all, because I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

I walk around the kitchen island to her and stop in front of her. I don’t touch her—just like I promised—but I do grip the counter on either side of her body. “One chance,” I whisper. “Give me one chance to prove to you that you’re not like all the other girls.”

“Of course I’m not like the other girls. I’m one in a fucking million.”

My lips tug up on one side. “Right. So give me a chance to prove that you’re one in a fucking million
to me
.”

“And how long is your one chance, hmm? A night? A day?”

“A week. One week. If, in seven days, you’re not convinced, I’ll let you walk away from me.”

“Really?” She looks at me. “You’ll let me go?”

I nod slowly, even though I’m doubting the truth of my words. I’m not sure I can let her go until I’ve felt her pussy clenching my cock, but if that’s what she wants to hear, then sure. I’ll let her go in a week if she’s still hating me.

Leah says nothing for a long moment, one that lingers heavily between us. I’m asking for a lot, especially when I can’t guarantee anything she wants, but I’m fed up with the back-and-forth.

“Okay, fine.” She swallows and meets my eyes fully. “One week, but you have to let me go anyway. Even if you convince me that I’m not just any other girl, you let me go.”

I clamp my jaw shut. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”

R
ule one: broken.

I never expected him to agree to what I said. I never expected that he’d agree to let me leave. I thought he’d fight me, argue until I gave in, but all he did was look at me for an agonizingly long moment before he agreed.

I’m not sure what it says. Does it say that he doesn’t actually care if he’s willing to let me go so easily? Or does it say that he respects me enough to let me have it the way I want it?

Playing him at his own game would be much easier if
I
knew the rules.

I throw my purse onto the floor of his Evoque and climb into the passenger’s seat. He smiles at me across the car. Just a smile. No words. Maybe he’s afraid that, if he talks, he’ll piss me off.

It’s a good call, to be honest.

His hair is wet, and the big bag on the back seat tells me that he’s come straight from practice.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I reply. “Good day?”

“Yep. You?”

“It was okay.” I hug my knees.

“Nice jersey.”

“It’s all right, I suppose.” I shrug. “I’m hungry.”

He glances at me, his lips twitching. “You wanna get food?”

“No. I regularly get hungry and don’t eat.” If only that weren’t true. I skip dinner way too much when I work.

“Takeout?”

“Only if you guess what my favorite is.”

Corey laughs. “Chinese.”

“Shit.” I punch the seat. “That was too easy.”

He laughs again. “Lucky guess,” he says, turning onto his driveway. “Just don’t make me order for you, all right? I will fuck that up.”

“I’m not that mean.” I sniff, grabbing my purse. “Although it would be funny to watch.”

Corey’s lips thin as he grabs his bag. “Don’t make me smack your ass, girl.”

I grin. “You wouldn’t,” I say, turning and walking backward toward his front door. “Because that would be counterproductive.”

“Not exactly. I’m not really an ass-slapper. Unless it’s your ass.”

“Thanks. I think.” I frown and follow him inside.

“You’re welcome.” He lightly taps my butt with a cocky smirk.

I shoot him a look and he lightly shoves me in the back.

“Come on. Let’s go order food. You want a drink?” he asks.

“Please.”

“I have wine.”

“Me plus wine plus you never equals a good combination.”

“I like bad combinations.” He sends a smirk my way and pours a glass anyway. “Here.” He puts the glass in front of me. “Sorry. I don’t have sippy cups.”

“Fuck you.” I narrow my eyes, fighting my smile.
Asshole.
“Are you ordering my food or not?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he laughs. “Give me a minute, all right? We just walked through the door.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“Let me find my phone at least.”

“I’ll take a chicken chow mein, egg fried rice, and crispy beef strips. Thanks.”

“Shut up before I kiss you.”

“Try it.”

He steps next to me and dips his head. I put my phone against my mouth and he pauses, his lips hovering above it.

“I found my phone.” I grin.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and then takes it from me.

“There’s a takeout on speed dial five.”

He stops. “Are you serious?”

“About food? Always.” As long as I’m not working, that is.

His eyes don’t leave me as he dials and reels off our order. He hands me my phone back when he’s hung up, making sure his fingers brush mine. “Done.”