“What do I say, Zano?” I retorted. “What questions do I ask when I don’t want the f**king answers?”
“If you’d asked, you might have found you wanted the answers,” he fired back.
Then, all Italian hothead badass, he lost it.
Lifting a hand, he tapped the tips of his fingers to his temple and jerked his hand out at the same time leaning into me and shouting, “You’ve totally lost your goddamned mind!”
“You know I haven’t,” I snapped.
“No,” he clipped as he turned. His movements rough with suppressed anger, he stalked to my jeans, still talking. “What I know is, I wasted a goddamn year on a lunatic. Jesus. Fuck me,” he bit out, bending and tagging my jeans. He turned and tossed them to me, continuing, “You hide it well, Ally. All that f**king crazy under all that hot. You had me snowed, thinkin’, you allowed me to dig deep, I’d get the warm and sweet with the hot, not a hot f**kin’ mess.”
I’d caught my jeans and I had nothing to say to that remark but no chance to say it before he prowled by me, his anger now at such an extreme that his movements were fluid as his adrenaline flowed.
And he kept talking.
“You wanna go. Go. Be my guest, honey.” He bent and grabbed his own jeans, tugging them on and not looking at me. “You want this over, you get it, ‘cause now, with this, I see I’ve wasted a year on your bullshit, and honest to Christ, I never wanna lay eyes on your jacked ass again.”
Ouch.
That hurt.
No, that wasn’t right. It killed.
But I took his invitation.
And not only because it was the only option open to me.
Also because it was the smartest.
As fast as I could, I dressed and made sure I had my phone and all my belongings (not that I came with many, Ren dragged my ass there in another Italian hotheaded tizzy).
But I knew Darius and Brody were staying in the same hotel, I just didn’t know their room numbers and I needed to get from here, to one of their rooms, then home, and fast (my pick, Darius).
But at the door, because he didn’t get me, I decided before we were over, he was going to f**king get me.
Hand on the knob, I turned to him, dredging up what had been haunting me for over a year. Something that had killed the hope I had for my own kickass Rock Chick fairytale. Something that taught me the death of hope was the worst thing you could experience.
I saw he was pulling his shirt over his head and started, “That night, beer and bourbon and you liking the Bears?”
He yanked his shirt down and twisted only his neck so his burning eyes locked on me but he didn’t turn to face me.
I sucked in breath as his gaze boiled away my flesh.
Then I did what I always did. I pulled it together, straightened my spine and held his eyes.
“The next morning, I woke up happy. So happy I was f**king smiling. It was the best date I ever had and it wasn’t even a date.”
That muscle in his jaw jumped but he didn’t say anything.
I didn’t need him to.
My voice quieter but no less emotional, I laid it out.
“Naked with you in your bed, smiling to myself and happy, you pressed into me, curled your hand around my breast and said Ava’s name in my hair.”
I watched his face blank even as his chin jerked back.
“So think what you want but I know I’m not jacked,” I whispered. “That, Ren, when a woman lies naked, thus exposed, in a man’s arms, when all she’s thinking about his him, and he calls her another woman’s name, that’s how she knows.”