Page 101 of Blacklist

“You’ll have to take my word for it.” He doesn’t look happy that I’m questioning him still.

“You want me to trust you, but how can I? Why should I?” I demand.

“Sometimes you have to have faith in a person,” he says in a quiet voice. “You have to ask yourself what they’re capable of.”

I swallow this sage advice washing down all the retorts crowding on my tongue for their turn to be spoken. “Nothing happened?”

He shakes his head, but instead of looking relieved, he looks disgusted. “That’s what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you,” I confess. More and more is coming back to me about last night. Sterling laughing at the bar. Sterling feeding me hot chicken. Kissing Sterling. Sterling carrying me into his apartment. I also seem to remember throwing myself at him multiple times. Yeah, now that the memories are coming back, I wish they wouldn’t. I hadn’t just pulled off my jeans, I’d try to strip for him in a pathetic attempt to get him into bed. I’m the one who should be ashamed.

Instead, I finish tying my shoelaces and search my pockets for a hair tie. I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe in the thick air of words unspoken. He’d been a gentleman. I’d been drunk. Nothing changes that I’d kissed him—and that I’d wanted him to keep kissing me.

“I should go,” I say, heading for the door but he moves in front of it. His long arms stretch over his head, bracing the doorframe. The light from the living room windows halos his body, casting shadows over the ripples and ridges of his muscular body.

The gentleman is gone. I can’t see a hint of him hiding in Sterling’s primal eyes.

“You wanted me to fuck you,” he says, his voice nearly a growl. “You wanted me to fuck you so that you could hate me. You’d get off on that – screwing someone you hate. Poor little rich girl with no one who loves her. Don’t flatter yourself that I’d lay a finger on you. You begged me last night. You were on your knees.”

A dangerous flicker in my chest ignites into fire. “I’ve never begged you for anything.”

“Tell yourself that, Lucky. You did and you will again. I know you. I know the only thing you crave more than someone to love you is destruction. You want to be wrecked. You want to be broken.” His hand moves to my face, but I don’t flinch. I just scowl as he traces my profile with his fingertip. “Isn’t that, right?”

“Think what you what,” I shoot back. “From now on, no more making this look real. No fake dates. Stay away from me.”

I duck under his arms, half-expecting him to stop me. Sterling is true to his word, backing away to let me pass. “You don’t even see it do you? I took care of you last night. I kept you safe—and you thanked me by accusing me of something you know I would never do.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I whirl on him. Zeus pads up to me and sits at my feet as though he senses now is not the time to jump up for some love. “Don’t pretend that I know who you are anymore. Don’t pretend that you know me. Stop living in some idealized version of the past. I don’t know what you’re capable of, and you certainly don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Not an apology, clearly.”

“Oh, I am so sorry that I jumped to conclusions!” I storm. “It’s not like it’s that hard to imagine. You did kiss me!”

“So you remember?” he says coolly. “And the rest?”

I take a deep breath and do the last thing he expects, if only to prove him wrong. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome,” he says tersely.

Zeus pushes his muzzle into my hand and I scratch his head absently.

“But you’re right. This thing between us isn’t going to work. I can see that now.”

“I tried to tell you,” I say.

“It was your idea.”

“Pretending—not actually going out on dates,” I remind him. Why does it feel like a moot point?

Sterling stalks toward me, stopping a few paces before he reaches me. “Answer one question for me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you just accused me of taking advantage of you. I figure you owe me,” he says.

“Fine,” I mutter.

“When was the last time you had that much fun?” he asks.