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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

COURTNEY

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Istand in my bedroom, wearing only my silky nightie, and stare at the dead phone.

Open the door.

Do I ring him back?

I grab my silk dressing gown and pad out to the living room, staring at the front door as if it will give me the answer.

Zander is drunk.

I don’t have a door, it’s an elevator.

Still, I can tell security not to let him up.

Telling Zander to go home, instead, is the right thing to do.I start to message him but stop.I know why.Even if I don’t want to admit it to myself.

I want to see him.

I’ve wanted to see him every day since we last saw one another.

The ping of the elevator makes me jump even though I was expecting it.As the doors slide open, I swallow nervously.

Holy hell.

He’s definitely drunk, butmy goodness,he looks ruggedly handsome.His hair is ruffled, and he has a sexy five o’clock shadow.The black sweater he’s wearing is snagged on his jean belt, looking like he’s some Bookstagram man-whore, and frankly, I’m here for it.

He sports a naughty grin, and I know I’m toast.

There’s no saying no to him tonight.

What woman could?

“Fuck.”Zander steps forward with a little wobble and takes me by the hips.“Look at you.”

I dig deep for the strength I know one of us has to find.Given that I’m the sober one, it has to be me.

“You’ll hate yourself in the morning,” I warn him.

“Baby, I have a lot of regrets in life but fucking you one more time will not be one of them.”