The Wrong Right Man(22)

“We can go to bed.”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t make me dump this very hot tea over your head. I’m still really pissed at you.”

“How can I make you less pissed?” he asks, touching my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. Just that small touch makes me shiver and curse myself. “I apologized for lying. What else do you want me to do?”

“You kind of apologized, and then you stole my information and broke into my apartment,” I remind him. “What would you do if someone did that to you?” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’s going to respond. “And don’t lie. You’d probably lose your mind.”

“You’re right—I would.”

“Then don’t you think I have the right to be mad?”

“You do, but—”

I cut him off with a groan. “You do know that the word ‘but’ means ‘ignore everything I just said,’ right? You are seriously the most frustrating man I have ever met in my life.”

“Then we’re on an even playing field, because I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“How am I frustrating you? Because I’m not just letting you off the hook? It wasn’t me, Braxton, who got into this relationship under false pretenses then lied and lied some more.”

“Relationship?” He raises one brow.

“Don’t even go there,” I hiss. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“I’d like to be in a relationship with you.”

“And I’d like to kill you, but I doubt I could get away with it without someone coming to look for you.”

I watch him laugh then brace when his expression turns serious. “You should know I’m not going to stop pursuing you until you give me another chance.”

God, he’s relentless. “Are you an only child?”

“No, I have two sisters and a brother.”

“That’s surprising.”

“I’m not some spoiled brat who’s used to getting their way, Dakota. I’m a man who knows what he wants. And when I find something I want, I go after it until it belongs to me.”

“Again, Braxton, I’m a person, not an object you can own.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t belong to me.”

Lord, his overbearingness should not turn me on, but there is no denying the way his words make me feel.

“And you have to know that if you belong to me, I’d belong to you as well.”

“Braxton.”

“You want me, Dakota. I know you do. You might be trying to push me away, but you don’t actually want me to go.”

He’s right, isn’t he? I could have done something when he broke in, but I didn’t, and I haven’t done much to make him leave. I like his company; I like the way he looks at me, and even when he’s annoying me, I like being around him. I know I shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change that I do.

“I need time.”

“How much time do you need?”

“I don’t know. Am I going to find out anything else about you that I don’t know?”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

“See? That right there is what puts me on edge,” I say, pulling my legs under me on the couch. “Everything you say leaves lots of room for you to come back later and sideswipe me.”

“How’s that?” He looks genuinely confused.

“I asked if there is anything else I don’t know about you, and your answer is there’s a lot. Lots, like what? A wife, a kid… are you running for president or planning to take over the world?”

“No wife, no kids. If I did have a wife, I wouldn’t cheat on her. I don’t want to be president, and I have no desire to take over the world. You know the big stuff about me. I own IMG, this building, and I’m obsessed with a woman I tricked into going on a date with me.”

I stare at him, unsure what to say or how to respond. Part of me wants to give in and agree to see him, but I need time to figure out if he can be trusted. I still feel betrayed by him. He didn’t just lie; he kept things from me and did it with ease. And if he did it once, he could do it again, and if that happened, it would be my fault. Like the old saying goes—fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

“I’ll give you time, Dakota, but you’re not going to figure out if you can trust me unless you actually give me a chance to prove to you that you can.”

“Can you read my mind?” I ask, honestly a little freaked he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“No, but I’m beginning to understand the thing holding you back isn’t that you don’t want to spend time with me; it’s that you don’t trust me.” He reaches out, touching my cheek. “Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

His expression softens. “How about we take things slow?”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Knowing him, his version of slow and mine are probably completely different.

“We spend time together, but nothing more until you’re ready for that.”

“Are we talking about sex?” Well that will be a challenge, maybe not for him but for me. I’m not sure I have enough willpower to spend time with him and not want what I know he’s capable of making me feel.