Only Mine (Honey Mountain #5)(12)

He chuckled. “You’re a fucking rock star, Dylan Thomas. I look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks. You stay in touch, okay?”

“I will. Looking forward to it.”

His tongue dipped out to wet his bottom lip as he nodded. Classic go-to move that I was all too familiar with. But I just knew the game well, and I rarely reacted to men the way most women did. I prided myself on staying in control.

“See you soon, Dilly.” He winked.

“You will.” I smiled before holding up my hand and waving goodbye. I made my way toward the elevator and glanced into the restaurant to see Wolf talking with Jos. His arms were crossed over his chest, completely closed off. She was batting her lashes and giggling, giving it her best shot.

I wondered if he was a closed-off lover the way he was outside the bedroom. The man had a coolness about him—an impenetrable exterior. I wondered if that softened behind closed doors.

These were the kinds of thoughts that always crossed my mind. Trying to figure out everyone’s game. Everyone’s angle.

I pressed the button and waited for the elevator doors to open before stepping on. I leaned against the back wall as the doors started to close.

A large hand reached inside and pushed them open, and a brooding Wolf stepped on as the doors closed behind him.

“Oh, I figured you’d be joining the lovely Jos for a nightcap.” I cleared my throat because he looked pissed.

Shocker.

The man had the worst case of resting bitch face I’d ever seen.

He just had this chronic intensity about him.

He’d lightened up with Braxton, which was a relief to see that he was capable of engaging with humans without being a complete dick.

“Did you now? You sure about that?”

“Am I sure about what?”

“That you thought I’d be having a nightcap with Jos.” He raised a brow, his arms folded across his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and irritation radiating from his large frame.

“I mean, I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into it, if I’m being honest. I don’t really care what you do.”

He moved so quickly that he caught me off guard. But studying martial arts my entire life, I quickly squared my shoulders and prepared for battle when he invaded my space.

“I think you do.”

“Of course, you do. You’re an arrogant prick, so you think the world revolves around you.” I met his hard gaze and gave him a warning look to step back.

“What exactly did you tell her about my—er—deficiencies?”

I couldn’t hide the smile spreading across my face because it had been a brilliant revenge move. “Well, the girl was on a mission. She’d grilled me about you when I came out of the bathroom. She wanted to know if you were single. I told her that you were a good guy from what I knew of you, and I assumed you were single.”

“And you know this because?” He stood, crowding me, but not in a threatening way at the moment, so I wouldn’t kick him in his junk just yet.

“Because you just don’t scream relationship vibes.” I held my hands up and smirked. “No judgment.”

“Right. No judgment. However, you sure seemed to know a lot about me when you discussed the size of my dick.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and looked away for a second so I could compose myself. I didn’t think she’d actually tell him what I’d said so quickly. “Or lack thereof.”

“Yeah. She mentioned that. She said she didn’t mind that I had some limitations downstairs. What exactly did you tell her?”

“I told her that you suffered from microdick syndrome.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“I don’t know. I was winging it. But I think it speaks for itself.” I held up my finger and my thumb about an inch apart and shrugged.

“What is your obsession with my dick?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you think I’m obsessed with your schlong, but trust me, I have zero interest in what you’re packing.”

“Is that why you made that comment yesterday to Gallan? You’re two for two. I’d say that’s bordering on obsession.” He raised a brow, and his tongue swiped out to wet his bottom lip, and I’ll be a mother-effing flying pig if my lady bits didn’t just go into overdrive.

What the hell was that about?

Braxton Jones was hot, and he’d just tried the same move, and nothing happened.

Nada.

Crickets.

Now the arrogant, pompous, annoying dick weasel licks his juicy, bitable bottom lip, and my vajazzle explodes like fireworks on the freaking Fourth of July.

“It’s called revenge, genius.”

“Revenge for what? You’re here. I agreed to ninety days. Why in the hell are you serving me up a plate of dick insults now?”

The elevator came to a stop, and I placed my hands on his chest to push him back. His muscles bristled beneath my fingertips, and I didn’t pull away as quickly as I should have.

But he took a step back as if I’d just burned him with my touch and motioned for me to step off when the doors opened.

“You slut-shamed me at dinner, and I don’t appreciate it,” I hissed over my shoulder as he followed behind me down the hallway.

“Slut-shamed you? What the fuck are you talking about?”