Martin’s eyes narrowed as I spoke and his mouth curved into an unhappy line. When I was finished he lifted his gaze to the ceiling, subtly shaking his head; he paired an eye roll with a whispered, “Fuck.”

Again, I flinched at the profanity and scrunched my nose, my gaze moving back to the discarded book. I wondered how much longer this conversation was going to take, because Porthos’s shenanigans were seriously cracking me up.

“Parker…”

My eyes jumped back to his, which were now once again on me. He didn’t look as angry, but he did look frustrated.

“Yes?”

Martin lifted his hand like he was going to put it on my leg, but stopped when I stiffened. He cursed again. Shook his head, again. Gritted his teeth, again.

“Look,” he said, “if you’d stayed, then you would have seen me push her away. I’m not interested in her.” His expression relaxed, and I saw the flash of hopeful vulnerability. My heart leapt in response.

Stupid heart.

He cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, and added, “I’m not interested in any girl here other than you.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from frowning, though I knew my eyes betrayed my disbelief because Martin’s frustration visibly spiked.

Before he could continue, I interjected, “Martin, even if I believed you—which I don’t—it doesn’t really matter. You pawned me off on Ray for the drive over. When we walked in here, into this house, you left me. You walked away from me, and you didn’t introduce me to anyone. You went off as though I wasn’t there. I don’t know any of these people and I’m terrible at parties.”

His gaze turned thunderous. “Is that what this is about? Are you down here because you’re pissed that I left? I thought I was doing what you wanted. You said that you didn’t want me to be possessive and hover. Is this some kind of punishment? Because I don’t respond well to that kind of mind-fuckery or passive-aggressive bullshit.”

Despite my desire to stay calm, his words felt like gasoline on a fire I’d been carrying around in my chest, but had thus far managed to keep under control. My temper rose and with it the volume of my voice.

“No, Martin. I don’t do passive-aggressive and I don’t punish people. That is one of my life rules. I’m honest. If something upsets me, I’ll let you know. But in order for me to be upset, I’d have to be surprised by your terrible behavior. What you did, leaving me in a room full of strangers and giving CPR to female partygoers didn’t upset me, because I don’t really expect more from you.”

It was his turn to flinch. He sucked in a sudden breath and straightened away from me, his eyes cooling to frigid icicles. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re used to getting what you want or who you want when you want it. And I couldn’t care less if you were upstairs, right now, having a ginormous orgy with the ringworm gang. Because I’ve known all along that you are a jerk-face and you don’t know how to treat people with decency.”

His mouth fell open, presumably at my words and my hostile tone, and he stared at me. His expression was that of someone who’d been stunned speechless.

I didn’t like losing my temper. In fact, I prided myself on how laid-back  and in control of my reactions I was, and how I never lost my temper. Therefore, this loss of control was another irritating new development since spending time with jerky Martin Sandeke.

At length, he found his voice. Though, surprisingly, he didn’t sound quite as angry. “If you don’t like how I treat you, then why do you keep letting me kiss you?”

“Opportunity and lust.”

Gah…that was spiteful.

He flinched like I’d kicked him and he glanced away. His reaction made my heart hurt, and therefore, I heaved a gigantic regretful sigh.

My words came out in a rush. “That’s not true. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. The truth is…”

He lifted his eyes to mine, and the raw emotion made me forget myself. It made me forget to be cautious. Without really thinking about it or planning to do so, I gave him the whole embarrassing truth.

“You’re smart—in fact, you have flashes of brilliance which is a huge turn on for me—and you’re funny and charming when you want to be. And sometimes, you treat me with kindness and respect. Also, you’re a good kisser. I thought at first it was my lack of experience, but now I think you’re just an exceptionally good kisser. I like kissing you. I like the way it feels. I love how you make me feel when you touch me. But what feels good isn’t always what’s good for me, and I’m not willing to settle for being with someone who sometimes treats me well. I’d rather be alone.” 

With the end of my unplanned speech the numbness returned. I peered at him in a way I hoped demonstrated my acceptance of the situation and the impossibility of us, and I reached for my book. I did all this while I tried to suppress my blush of mortification. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Porthos is rather charming and I’d like to finish this chapter before leaving.”

Martin’s glare moved from me to the book. Before I understood his intention, he’d reached for the book, pulled it from me, and tossed it over his shoulder. I yelped my surprised unhappiness, but couldn’t retrieve the novel because he’d stepped forward again, crowding my space. He gripped my waist and yanked me forward so he was between my legs, and my chest was against his.

My mind might have been numbed to him, but my pants weren’t. I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, everything tightening and twisting and bracing for his touch.

He stared at me for a long moment, during which—I’m ashamed to admit—my heart rate quadrupled and my body responded by pressing more fully against him. When he did speak, his voice was a growly and hostile whisper. “Listen to me for one fucking second, okay?”

I also whispered, but only because he was whispering, “Only if you stop using the F-word like you get paid royalties every time you say it.”

“I’ll fucking use whatever fucking word I want to fucking use whenever I fucking want to,” he whispered back.

I shook my head and spoke mostly to the other washing machine and two dryers lining the walls. “Again, proving my point, jerk-face.”

“Kaitlyn, you are irritating.”

“Feeling is mutual, jerk-face.”

“Especially when you’re right.”

“Well, you can…” I paused, blinked at him and his shocking words. “Wait, what?”

His eyes moved over my face as he spoke and the tension in his body eased. Peripherally, I noted he was wrapping his arms around me, one hand sliding under the string of my bikini and against my bare back.

“I’m sorry.” He was still using his growly whisper.

I narrowed my eyes, attempting to peer into and through his words, looking for trickery. As well, I was trying to ignore the wave of goosebumps that had spread outward from where his hot palm pressed against my back, and the fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

A beautiful man is the devil’s most potent weapon.

A few seconds ticked by while we stared at each other. I wondered if I looked as hostile as he did.

I responded, “Do you even know why you’re apologizing?”

“Yes.” Another growl.

“Why? Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I shouldn’t have left you when we got here. I should have kept you close to me, and I shouldn’t have let Danielle close enough to touch me, not when we’re together.”

My brain stumbled on the word together, and I frowned my confusion at his accurate listing of offenses. “This seems like a miraculously sudden apology.”

His jaw flexed. “Are you seriously going to give me shit about apologizing?”

I shook my head. “No. No, I am not. I accept your apology. Thank you for apologizing.”

His eyes flickered between mine, then lowered to my mouth. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Your turn to apologize.”

My eyebrows bounced an inch upward. “What am I apologizing for?”

“For always assuming I’m an asshole.”

It was my turn to stare at him while he filled the silence, his chin dipping toward mine, our mouths scant inches apart.

“I didn’t leave you because I was trying to be a jerk. I wanted to give you your space. I thought I’d circle back around and find you…prove that I trusted you. I don’t know how to be near you without being possessive, because every time a guy looks at you I want to rip his head off. I’ve never come to a party with someone before. I don’t know girl-rules. This is new for me. And I wasn’t kissing Danielle. She kissed me and I pushed her away, but you obviously didn’t stick around for the half second it took me to tell her I wasn’t interested.”

My mouth opened and closed. I was shocked. His words shocked me.

He wasn’t finished. “You promised me you would give this a try. But you’ve already made up your mind about me. Sitting down here, avoiding me, isn’t trying. Seeing another girl kiss me, and then walking away, isn’t trying. Assuming the worst of me isn’t trying. Either you do this for real, or you break your promise. But don’t put this all on me. I’m not a fucking mind-reader.”