Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(26)

The margaritas are catching up with her.

“No idea, but I’d be happy to remedy that for you.”

She shakes her head like I’m full of shite and asks, “Why?”

“Because you’re sexy.”

She narrows her eyes. “Like I said, you’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am, actually.”

We nurse our drinks in silence. After a few minutes of this, she sighs. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

“No, Celeste. I’m not.” I turn to her.

She thrums the bar top, staring at her hand. “I don’t have condoms.”

My insides jump, but my face stays passive and confident. “I do.”

Her face turns up to me and we stare. The beast claws at the ground in anticipation.

“Fine.” Celeste tries to look bored, unaffected, but her aura is a dazzling display of the opposite. “We can go to my room. . . .”

I nearly close my eyes and sigh with relief. That was the longest forty minutes of my life. I praise the forwardness of older women who know exactly what they want. I throw money on the bar and lean forward, my face inches from hers.

“Brilliant, Celeste. You’re an angel.”

The word angel catches on my tongue. The relief I’d been feeling suddenly wavers and I curse Anna as guilt shoves its way back into my consciousness. For a fleeting moment I imagine telling this woman I’ve changed my mind. I imagine what it would be like to ignore the throb of pain and go back up to my room to be near Anna.

It’s a completely pointless and idiotic thing for me to ponder. There is absolutely no reason not to do this. I place my hand on the small of Celeste’s back and lead her out of the bar. I want what I want, and I’m going to get it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sold

“I’m starting to want you, more than I want to . . .

I just want to make you go away, but you taste like sugar.”

—“Like Sugar” by Matchbox Twenty

Anna doesn’t stir when I slip back into the room in the dead of night and take another shower. Her heavy sleeping is a sign of her overly trusting nature. She is never on guard, never listening, completely unaware of her surroundings. It’s infuriating. I don’t want to have to worry about her safety once this trip is over. I don’t want to have to think about her at all.

And yet, as I fall asleep she fills my dreams.

We begin to square dance together to that horrid badonkadonk song, and we’re both quite good. But it’s one of those dreams that’s so f*cking weird you wish you couldn’t remember it. In my dream, Celeste cuts in on our dance. This angers Anna, who slides over to the bartender, snogging him to make me jealous. I wake early, flustered and frustrated, and I realize I’ve been going about this all wrong.

I’ve been trying to have my cake and eat it, too. I’m not doing myself any favors by letting Anna know I’m sleeping with other chicks. Jealousy often helps get girls right where you want them, but not Anna. She’s not going to offer herself up just to keep me from going to another. I vow to be nicer for the rest of the trip. And when I leave to work at night, I will pretend I’m doing something else. What a bloody knobhead I’ve been.

I’m feeling bright and chipper at breakfast after my revelation, especially after I realize Anna has long since forgiven me for my Hulk Smash moment with the lamp. I flirt with her, teasing her, giving her every bit of my attention. I watch her blush and listen to her giggle. I’m determined to win that body over if it’s the last bleedin’ thing I do. I even let her drive.

I don’t expect Anna to have such a lead foot, and naturally her need for speed turns me on. I play game after game on my mobile to distract myself.

“Do you mind if we stop?” she asks.

I look up at the small Native American reservation, which piques my interest. “Not at all.”

New Mexico is hot as hell—a dry heat that reminds me of the western Cape of South Africa. The reservation has an old-world feel that gives me a false sense of ease. Anna is in her element, flitting around like a butterfly and smiling at everyone.

I watch her examine jewelry, spending an especially long time staring at a turquoise necklace. It’s the perfect piece for her, shaped like a heart. She turns it over, holds it up, practically pets it, then looks at the price tag. She quickly sets it down and steps away. Curiosity tugs me to her side. She obviously adores it—why doesn’t she buy it? Then I recall her and her mum’s money problems, which are unheard of for a Neph. I catch sight of the price tag and feel indignant on Anna’s behalf. She should be able to have whatever she wants.

“See anything you like?” I ask.

I think I startle her because she jumps a little and moves even farther away from the necklace.

“Yeah. It’s all beautiful, isn’t it?”

Strange feelings wrestle around inside me. She won’t admit she likes the necklace, as if she feels shameful for coveting it.

“Can I . . . get you something?”

Her neck and cheeks turn bright pink. “Oh. No. I don’t need anything, but thank you.”

It’s baffling. She’d probably rather die than ask me to buy it for her. But I really want her to have it.

Whoa. I blink, desperately needing to examine the reasons behind this feeling.