Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(19)

His lips tighten and the moment of tense silence says more than words. “Skye—”

“Don’t,” I warn. “Whatever you say will just come off as a negotiation to get in the unit.” And my pants, I think with embarrassment, where I almost let him. “I told you I’d come here and look at your evidence. That I agreed to. His abuse is another story. Just go to your tournament and I’ll be here when you get back.” I try to step around him again.

He steps in front of me. “Don’t go.”

“This is ridiculous,” Daniel retorts. “Go to your tournament, Jason. Let me deal with the woman.”

That’s it. I’m officially pissed. I glare at Jason. “Tell your ‘manager’ that ‘the woman’ doesn’t need to be dealt with. She just needs to leave.” He doesn’t move, and my frustration escalates. “Step aside, Jason, or I swear I’ll prove just how well you know how to make a woman scream. And while I suspect some of your women have really large ‘assets’ of the Victoria’s Secret nature, mine are my really big lungs.”

His gaze flickers low, grazing my breasts that have been in his hands, before he arches a brow. “Your lungs?” he asks.

“Yes. My lungs.”

“Jason—” Daniel starts.

“Don’t say another word,” Jason snaps, scrubbing a hand over his head, more loose strands of his light brown hair falling around his handsome face, a look of utter frustration on his handsome face.

“Someone needs to think with the right head,” Daniel retorts, and I don’t get the chance to attack.

A glower slides over Jason’s face and he whirls on his manager. “Enough means enough.”

Yes, it does, and I’m past my limit. I dart for the door, leaving the murmur of their voices behind me, and by the time I reach for the foyer their exchange has turned heated. I yank open the front door and leave them to fight, feeling like a fool many times over. Not only did I go to a stranger’s home alone, I actually feel regret that he’s letting me leave. The same stranger who is using me and is willing to seduce me on a desk to get what he wants. And I almost let him, which screams “sex-deprived idiot.” I need to find the brain I’ve always prided myself on.

The door slams behind me and it’s like a slap in the face. I feel used and abused. I question my judgment in helping Jason at all. A ding sounds the elevator’s arrival and I wait for what feels like forever before it opens. Still Jason hasn’t appeared, which truly shocks me since I have something he wants, but all elevator fears aside, I freely step into the car, no sexy male roadblocks in sight. The car begins to move and I squeeze my eyes shut as I replay the kiss on that desk, darn near feeling his tongue against mine, his hands on my body, and I burn with a mix of heat and embarrassment. Why did I let that happen? How did I let that happen?

Not soon enough, I’m free of the elevator and darting across the lobby and outside the building, where I ask the doorman to call me a cab, which he seems quite willing to do. It’s a late morning in August, and thankfully a normal mid-70s with sun, considering I don’t have a jacket with me. I wait by the wall at the side of the building and I don’t miss how the doorman takes a call and glances at me. I know what that means. He’s talking to Jason and I have a bad feeling I’m not getting my cab. I start walking, trekking down the sidewalk and grimacing as I approach a monstrous hill when Jason’s sporty car pulls up next to me.

“Skye,” Jason says. “Get in. Let me take you home.”

I flick him a look. “I’ll catch a trolley.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” he chides. “You won’t find a stop until you’re past that hellish hill. Let me take you home. I have a plane to catch. It’s not like I can stay and harass you, no matter how pleasurable that might be.”

I stop and glare at him. “Harassing me is pleasurable?”

“Damn straight.” He gets out of his car and towers over me, his hands settling on my shoulders and sending waves of heat through my body. “Please,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, seductive purr I’m sure many a woman has fallen prey to, “let me take you home. It’s the least I can do, considering how badly the past hour has gone.”

He’s right. He owes me a ride. I shrug out of his hold, dart to the passenger side of the car, and climb inside. A moment later, he joins me and the tiny space is too intimate, the scent of him too manly, too alluring. After all that just happened, this isn’t just a ride, no matter what I might want to tell myself. I still want him. What does that say about me?

He maneuvers the fancy sports car onto the road and my confusion over my feelings for this man has me in attack mode. “They say we are who we hang out with,” I comment.

“He’s an employee.”

“Who appears more in charge than you.”

He flicks me a look. “His paycheck is tied to my career, and he thinks my bedroom habits got me into trouble. The timing was just bad.”

“From what you told me, your bedroom habits did get you into trouble. Then and now.”

He sighs and surprises me with, “Right. You’re right.”

The tension etching his voice has me studying his profile, and I’m certain he knows I’m looking at him, though he stares straight ahead. I can almost feel the turbulence and worry radiating from him, and I think of the blackmail notes he’s shown me. He has to be truly freaked out. I would be. Actually I am, and they weren’t even directed at me.