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Whoa.
“Champion.” I held up a hand in protest, even as my heart took flight. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
I couldn’t allow myself to accept it. He’d seen my scar, the visible one. He knew the overview of my past, but he didn’t know that I hadn’t come to terms with it, and that I likely never would.
“I can say whatever I want.” He arched a sardonic brow, the cocky athlete taking precedence over the tenderness of the man. “Or are you attempting to censor my speech and thoughts again?”
“No.” My lips twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of doing that, Mr. Arrogance.”
I stamped a hand on my hip, and his mouth curved on one side. He liked when I gave him pushback, and I liked that he didn’t treat me like I was broken.
“I feel the way I feel about you,” he said firmly. “Get used to it.”
Bossy man.
I nodded, but I couldn’t allow myself to get used to it. I was a tragedy. He was a success. He’d experienced adversity, but he’d overcome it. There was a vast difference between us from the age gap to our economics.
Plus, and so not least, there was Ally to consider. My best friend wasn’t happy with me that I’d left the club with a man whose identity I kept secret from her. She made me promise to drop a pin at my location. I would do that, and then I would come clean. I would tell her everything, but not until the morning.
Extending the fantasy a little longer, I looked at Champion. I swallowed hard, knowing the second time leaving him was going to be much more difficult than the first. But there was nothing to say, nothing that could be done to change where this was headed. Chemistry and emotion aside, what we shared was only a moment of borrowed time.
“Are you ready to see my bedroom?” he asked.
“Yes, I am. Absolutely.”
I nodded, my eyes burning with longing. My chest was already tight with regret. I was ready for more, just not the inevitable ending.
It was dumb to be here doing this with him, considering the fallout, but I would take what I could get to have something to cherish later.
Champion
“AND THIS IS the master bedroom.” I pushed open the door. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you.”
Electra swept past me, the end of her scarf whispering across my arm. My erection throbbed, but there was something else going on inside me. Seeing her in my house and in my personal space made it stronger. My eyes locked on her, burning with the heaviness of it as she drifted around the room.
“The colors are warmer in here. I like the darker wood flooring, like that it matches the headboard.” She spun around and turned her pretty gaze to me. “It’s strong and masculine. It suits you.”
Shifting, she stared at the platform bed a long moment, then turned around again and drifted toward my desk.
I sucked in a breath and held it. There, on my desk, was revealed a side of me and a longing that most didn’t know.
“Who took all these black-and-white photographs?” She gestured and gave me an inquisitive look.
“I did.”
I came closer. Stopping behind her, I placed my hands on her shoulders. I wanted, needed to be connected to Electra. Desire and fear motivated my need. She was here, but I didn’t have all of her. She was elusive. I’d been in pursuit since I first laid eyes on her.
“Truly?” Her expression changing to wonder, she looked at the framed photos again.
“Photography is a hobby of mine.” My voice was gravelly, possessiveness toward her and vulnerability having her see this side of me making me feel rough inside.
“More than a hobby.”
She picked up a thick pile of glossies that I’d developed before leaving for Saint Croix. I was quiet, as still as a statue as I watched her shuffle through them.
“These are professional level,” she murmured.
