Tangled Games (Dating Games #5) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,88

on her forehead, then tug on my shirt.

Once I slide on my shoes, I grab my wallet and mobile, firing off a quick text to Creed before walking out of the suite. I don’t even acknowledge him when he steps out of the next room and follows me toward the elevator. He doesn’t say a word the entire ride down to the lobby, being the good friend he is. Or perhaps trained protection officer.

I’m about to make my way onto the sidewalk when I spy a lounge in the corner of the lobby. I haven’t had a drink in nearly a year. Controlling my diet was supposed to help slow down the progression of my MS and prevent any flareups.

Apparently not.

“Sir.” Creed touches my bicep, eyes narrowed, sensing my thoughts. “Don’t.”

I know it comes from a place of concern, whereas most people would accuse me of behaving like a spoiled rich kid. I can’t shake the feeling that my world is falling apart around me. If I can’t feel pleasure, I’d rather be numb.

“Fuck you.” I shrug him off, then storm toward the lounge.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nora

The sound of a slamming door stirs me from a restless sleep. As I blink my eyes open, I glance at Anderson’s side of the bed. Still empty.

Hearing a thump, followed by a curse, I sit upright, wrapping my silk robe tighter around me. Considering our suite is surrounded by a team of protection officers, there’s only one person it could be. And based on the fact it’s after two in the morning and he seems to be running into every piece of furniture, Anderson’s been drinking.

He finally manages to stumble into the bedroom, eyes slits, hair disheveled. The stench of alcohol is strong, even from a few feet away. I want to remind him of the negative effects drinking can have on his MS. I don’t want to spend the rest of our time in Paris fighting, though. Don’t want that to be the memory I take away from this magical place.

Not saying a word, he yanks his shirt over his head. When he attempts to kick off his shoes, he nearly topples over, grabbing onto the dresser. Steady once more, he refocuses on me. His lust-filled gaze causes an ache to stir deep within me. It shouldn’t. Not after the way we left things. But as he slides his jeans down his legs, revealing his rock-hard erection, my body betrays me, mouth growing dry, breathing becoming ragged.

I part my lips, words on the tip of my tongue. Words I can’t bear to say, especially when I recall the utter despair that covered every inch of him earlier.

He needs this. Needs to know he’s not the broken man he thinks he is.

And I need this, too. Need to know he won’t let this come between us.

I loosen the sash of my robe, allowing it to fall open in invitation. His eyes flame, the swirls of turquoise and sky blue becoming darker as he crawls onto the bed, spreading my legs. He brings his erection up to me, moving my slickness around before plunging inside.

I cry out at the invasion. I’d anticipated it, but didn’t expect it to be so…rough. So desperate. So anguished. There’s no other word to describe the way he buries his head in my neck and fucks me ruthlessly, each thrust more hopeless and frantic.

I should put a stop to this, make him talk to me about what’s going through his brain instead of fucking away his anger. But when he peers at me, his gaze begging me to take away the pain, I don’t have it in me.

I dig my hands through his hair, wrapping my legs around him, allowing him to take whatever he needs. I don’t know what else to do to fix this. I wish there were a magic pill that would make his body strong again. Reverse the deterioration I’ve already witnessed in just the past year. But there isn’t. I’ve seen him grow more tired and weary as he tries to balance the fate of the country on his shoulders against this debilitating disease that takes more and more from him with every breath.

His pace quickens, each thrust furious and brutal. I scrape my nails along his back, and he arches. His carnal gaze spears me as he drives into me even faster. This isn’t making love. This is fucking, pure and simple. He’s not interested in pleasure right now. Just to prove a point. Prove