Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(39)

I hated how attracted I was to him.

I hated how my body ignited without even a touch.

I hated even more that he’d hurt me…and now, he was here…and I wasn’t immediately walking away.

“This feels familiar,” Penn said.

He stalked forward, a predator seeing his prey. I matched his steps as I stepped away from him.

“Does it?”

His grin was purely feline. “Meeting a stranger at a Harmony Cunningham party. Should I offer to show you New York City for a night?”

My pulse quickened at the memory—when we’d met in a party so similar to this one on the other side of the world. He’d shown me Paris until we ended up back at his flat. And then he’d abandoned me. It was for good reason. Though I hadn’t known that until six years later.

“I think not.” My back thudded against the door. Nowhere else to go but out.

“No?”

Penn brought his hands down on either side of my head, caging me in, so there was only him before me. Just that beautiful face and the wicked seduction on his lips.

I swallowed. “We’re not strangers anymore.”

“Aren’t we?” he purred.

I pursed my lips at him. He was purposely acting coy. We had way too much history to be strangers. Seven years’ worth of baggage to sift through.

When I didn’t respond, he continued, “It feels like we are. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. And we’re living such different lives. But I suppose you’re right.” A hand brushed my waist, and I shivered. “How can we be strangers when I’m so well acquainted with your body?”

I wanted that touch. I didn’t want that touch.

“Penn,” I murmured. I was going to tell him to stop. To back off. To just walk away. But the words didn’t come out, and his name sounded like half a plea on my lips.

His body pressed flush against mine. My back hard against the closed door. Then his lips crashed down onto mine.

I gasped in shock. My hands moved to his chest. To push him away, surely. But as his lips reminded me of all the ways he’d drawn out my pleasure, my fingers twined in the front of his suit. Not away at all.

The bastard’s scent encompassed me, trapped me. Lost me to a world I’d wanted for so long and missed so much and hated so thoroughly. It all mingled, mixed, enveloped me completely. Up was down, and down was up. It was like jumping off a diving board without knowing if you’d even make your landing.

He pulled back a fraction with the most self-satisfied look. “I missed you.”

My mouth dropped open. He’d missed me? The goddamn bastard had missed me. After what he’d put me through—the lies and manipulations and stupid fucking bet—he thought waltzing in here and kissing me would somehow fix something? Charleston hadn’t worked. This sure as hell wasn’t.

I slammed my hands into his chest, sending him stumbling backward a step in surprise. I did it again. And then again.

“How fucking dare you!” I spat at him.

He laughed. He actually laughed at me. “Really, Nat?”

“Yes! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I think I dared. I think I dared very much. And I think you not only wanted me to, but also participated in that.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” I snapped.

“No? You didn’t grab me and pull me closer.” He cleared the distance again. “Your heart isn’t racing?” His hand settled atop my chest, feeling the quick thump of my heart. “You’re not heated from just my kiss?”

I was.

I totally was.

And his hand was drifting lower. Bold enough to find out for himself.

I stopped his descent. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

He grinned, all possessive and territorial. “I’m here for you, Nat.”

“And you thought this would be what I wanted?”

He arched an eyebrow, as if to say, Isn’t it?

I just glared.

“I know what your body wants.” Then his other hand moved to gently press two fingers against my temple. “It’s only your mind that I’m uncertain about.”

I slapped his hand from my body. Then I pushed away from him and stormed deeper into the empty bedroom. Being trapped against that door had been beyond dangerous. I needed space. Lots of space.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” I growled. “You only think with your body and not your mind.”

“If I remember correctly,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, “you were the one who begged me for a month of casual sex.”

“I never begged you for anything,” I hissed back.

Penn smirked in response. “Are you sure?”

My body flooded with memories of all the times I had begged him. Begged him for more, harder, faster. All the ways we’d come together last fall in the Hamptons. And the intimate way in which our bodies connected. It wasn’t fair that I could think about those things and shiver with desire after what had come next. Anger flared inside of me, and I tried to hold on to that like a light in the dark.

“I’m leaving. Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“No?” I demanded.

“We’re not through, you and me. We’re far from through.”