Page 4 of Nothing to You (Nothing to… #7)

CAGED IN THE COMPANY-supplied hotel room, her aggravation only grew. The standard room with its queen-sized bed, tiny closet, and claustrophobic walls stifled her.

Who the fuck did he think he was? Her relationship with Hotshot was on Huddle. Only on Huddle. What possessed him to change that? How long had he known who she was? He owned the company. Would have access to employee records, her personnel file. Everything.

Maybe if she could go for a walk… Eat. Drink. Breathe before she screamed. Frustration scalded her insides. She wanted to pound the walls and stamp her feet. How could he have ruined everything?

Obsessing wouldn’t get her anywhere. She needed a distraction. Sitting on the bed, she yanked her purse toward her.

Usually, if she had time in the day or needed a distraction, she’d go trawling to see what Huddle trouble might be around.

Some limited capacity booths were visible in advance.

Users could reserve their spot to guarantee it.

Contemplating how each debate may go gave her something to look forward to.

Not anymore. Her safe space wasn’t so safe anymore.

Retrieving her phone from her purse didn’t help her mood. Notifications. Huddle notifications. From him.

Two missed calls and a Huddle message.

HOTSHOT: Nothing?

Yep, that was it. Nothing. Except he’d done something. And she was supposed to just let that go?

The door beeped. It sounded like the door. Did Helena have a key?

Leaping from the bed, she got one step before it opened and who came storming in? Hotshot himself.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded as he stalked toward her.

“You know damn well who I am.”

When he got closer, she backed up into the open space by the bed. “I know you’re an asshole! What gives you the right to unilaterally—”

“Free will, Babycakes.”

What an asshole!

She whirled around to find him five feet away. “What we had worked, and you decided to change it!”

“Yeah, I did!”

“How long have you known? Was it all some big joke to you? Bet you got a real laugh!”

Four feet. “I didn’t have a damn clue until you opened your mouth downstairs!”

“Yeah, right!”

“Yeah, you told me you were Huddle. I knew you had a pitch for the conference—”

“I told you I had a work weekend, and you never thought to tell me you’d be here too?”

Three feet. “I wasn’t supposed to be here! I was never meant to hear the pitches!”

“And you just happened to stroll into mine? What a miraculous coincidence.”

“I knew you’d be in one of them, and if I could figure you out—”

“See!” Two feet. “You were here for me!”

“Did you hear me denying it?” A foot. “Yeah, I am here for you. So the fuck what?”

“No swearing.”

Another step. “We’re not in a Huddle booth now, Radley.”

No booth meant no rules, no boundaries. How had they got closer? So close she could feel the huff of his shallow breaths fogging her hair. The heat of those dark eyes narrowed on her. Hotshot. Holy fuck, Hotshot was right in front of her.

“No.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he snapped.

“No rules?”

“None.”

“Freedom, huh? What you going to do with it, Mr. Bigshot?”

Their mouths clashed. Frantic. Angry. Charged.

Lunging forward and down, he scooped her off the floor to rush her against the wall.

Her back hit hard, but she didn’t care about tomorrow’s bruises.

Panting breaths. Heat. Aggravation. Passion.

Her arms were already around his neck, coiling around his head, forcing his kiss deeper as she pushed his invading tongue back.

Their mouths had fought for months, over a year, they were old friends, old enemies.

The bastard wasn’t going to win. Wasn’t going to dominate. Not her. Fighting back was her style. And not just in debate.

Slanting her mouth, she tasted more, taking what she wanted. Needling. Baiting. Goading. He wanted this. Wanted her. Did he think she’d just surrender?

Toeing off her shoes, the ferocious kiss fueled a burning need that wouldn’t be satisfied by this feeble effort.

The searing desire had to be quenched. To be fulfilled.

Shoving his jacket from his shoulders, her message spurred him to spin away from the wall, knocking over the nightstand lamp as he dropped them onto the bed.

His palm skimmed her outer thigh, ascending to push her skirt up, caressing all the way to her hip.

Damn, he was good. Zinging needles of aching need followed those fingertips until his lips diverted her focus by trailing down her throat.

Her rebellious body arched against his domineering force. Fuck him. Fuck. Fuck. Shit.

Control, she needed it, and he wouldn’t expect timid. Screw that. Somehow, she found his tie and wrapped it round and round her knuckles to pull him up again. Her mouth wanted his, wanted more of what he’d started. He didn’t resist but fought for dominance.

No, she wouldn’t. Give in to him? Play it meek? Did he remember who she was? She wasn’t one of his weak starlets. Wasn’t a woman who needed to be taken care of or given handouts. She’d take anything, any way she wanted it.

Just as quick as he gave his kiss, he snatched it away. Planting his hands on the bed on either side of her head, he stared down at her. Not mad. Not arrogant. Not teasing or… The genuine shock blazing from him kicked hers into gear.

What the hell were they doing? The chance of salvaging their friendship would drop to nil if they got physical… more physical.

Her jaw moved because it felt like she should say something, but… what? Ask him to leave? Demand he leave? Apologize?

Boosting himself from above her, he didn’t linger and went for the door. She was still lying on the bed when it closed. Hotshot… What the hell was that?