Page 20 of The CEO I Hate (The Lockhart Brothers #1)

MIA

F ifteen minutes later, Liam Lockhart strode through the door, and I almost choked on my drink. The vodka went down hard and bitter. Like me.

I was now hard and bitter.

“Hot damn,” Ollie muttered from behind me. “Can we start attracting more clientele like that?”

Liam’s gaze drifted to the risqué performance on stage as Britney Spears’s “Toxic” poured through the speakers. There was a lot of gyrating and grinding. I watched him grit his teeth before he methodically scanned the rest of the space. His eyes finally landed on me, and he stalked across the room.

“Really?” he sneered when he was close enough. “Of all the places in the city to meet?”

Clearly, he wasn’t happy about being here. “If you’re that bothered by a little bit of twerking,” I said, emboldened by the liquor, “there’s the door.”

“I’m not bothered by the twerking.”

“You’re looking a little bothered,” I said, poking him in the chest .

He scowled down at my finger. I removed it. “I’m not going anywhere until we come to some sort of truce.”

The music on stage picked up, and I cheered for Craig as he went shimmying by. Liam’s scowl only deepened.

“Is there somewhere quieter we can go to talk?” he shouted over the thump of the bass.

I downed the rest of my drink, then jumped off my stool. “This way.” I led Liam around the side of the bar and through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door that led backstage.

“You’re sure it’s okay to be back here?” he questioned.

“Obviously,” I said. “Perks of knowing one of the owners.”

“Just don’t get us lost, Gretel. I didn’t bring any breadcrumbs with me tonight.”

I threw a glare over my shoulder. The hallway was a maze of costume racks, supply boxes, and shifting bodies, but it was nothing like being inside VeriTV Studios. Mostly because I’d been here so many times, I could navigate it blindfolded.

Offstage, the performers were in a constant state of motion, but I dodged around the chaos deftly while Liam growled “excuse me” as he repeatedly bumped into the passing performers.

“In here,” I said, taking a sharp left into Sophie’s dressing room. I closed the door behind Liam, blocking out the worst of the noise and chaos. I plopped down on Sophie’s couch, pulling a feather boa out from behind my back. I tossed it at Liam. “Happy now?”

He caught the boa and laid it across Sophie’s makeup table. “Look, Mia. What happened today?—”

“You mean the part where you accused me of trying to hook up with one of the actors? Or the part where you kissed me? I’m gonna need specifics.”

“You know what I’m here to talk about.” Liam rubbed at his jaw, massaging the shadow of sexy stubble. “Just like you know this can’t happen.”

“But it already did happen,” I said. “Twice now.”

“And it never should have,” Liam continued, launching into full-on lecture mode. I settled in as he started to pace back and forth. “You’re Jake’s little sister.”

“Yep, I’m aware.”

“And I’m your boss!” He ran a hand through that brown hair, tugging on the strands. “It would be totally inappropriate.”

“Hey, I’m not the one blurring the lines by throwing jealous tantrums every five minutes. I was staying in my lane.”

“Which lane was that when you were trying to rip my shirt off earlier?” he snapped.

The hot prickle of embarrassment flushed across my cheeks, but I was not going to let him turn this around on me.

“It seemed like the thing to do when someone was trying to swallow my tongue. But if you really don’t want me touching you, maybe try staying away from me in the first place. I didn’t ask you to drag me away so we could ‘talk’ in private, you know.”

“You were flirting with a cast member. I have a vested interest in protecting my show.”

I got to my feet, shuffling up to him, looking for the lie in those beautiful brown eyes of his. “I think you have a vested interest in me.”

“Mia,” he growled, low and warning, like I was one of his bad ideas come to life .

Maybe I was. God knows he was one of mine.

Because this man drove me absolutely insane. Arrogant. Controlling. Emotionally stunted. And yet here I was, staring into those dark brown eyes, still aching for the one person I should be done with.

He could make me furious in half a sentence. But he could also set my entire body on fire with just a look. And I hated that. Hated him for it. Hated myself more for still wanting him.

Screw it.

He wanted to pretend he didn’t see me that way?

That he didn’t want to tear my clothes off the way I did his?

Fine. But I was done with his weak-ass denials we both knew were lies.

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him toward Sophie’s armchair.

He staggered back into the plush leather.

I leaned over him, my breath brushing his jaw.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling your bluff,” I said, letting my words ghost next to his ear. His eyes narrowed, but I shoved at his chest, wordlessly telling him to stay put as I twisted toward one of Sophie’s many costume racks, perusing my options.

“Mia, this is ridiculous.”

I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it at him, leaving me in my bra.

I disappeared behind the rack, staring at him over the top of it.

He couldn’t see much between the clothes, but he knew I was half undressed now, and I watched his throat work as “I Put a Spell on You” by Nina Simone started playing on stage. How perfect.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled.

“What do you think?” I chose a pretty little gold corset from the rack, ditched my bra, and did my best to lace myself into it. It was a rushed job. The strings in the back were so knotted I’d have to be cut out of the top when all of this was over, but I was pretty sure my boobs looked great.

“We’re supposed to be talking.”

“We can talk,” I said, stepping out from behind the rack. I picked up that feather boa he’d tossed on Sophie’s makeup table earlier, then mustered every ounce of sexy I could as I danced over to the chair. “Go on,” I said. “Say what you came to say.”

Liam’s eyes flicked up and down my body in a way that sent tremors through me. I resisted the urge to groan as a pulse started throbbing between my legs. I twirled around the chair, running the end of the boa across his lap. “Cat got your tongue?”

He said nothing. Just stared.

But his jaw was tight, his hands clenched on the arms of the chair. And the look in his eyes? That told me everything.

“How do you expect me to say anything,” he finally managed, “when you’re dressed like that again?”

I leaned over one arm of the chair, dangling my cleavage in his face. “Have you been thinking about me like this?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Since that day in my apartment?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched like he was biting down on the words he wanted to say. Just give it up , I silently begged. Admit you want me .

I crawled over the arm of the chair, sliding right into his lap. The heat between us spiked. “This feels familiar,” I said, settling my weight on his thighs like I belonged there. “Remember New Year’s Eve, two years ago?”

He swallowed hard. “How could I forget? ”

His hands still hadn’t touched me. But they were so close. One twitch, one slip in control, and he’d be all over me again. I could feel it.

“You tell me.” I said softly. “You’ve never mentioned it since.”

I still remembered the way he’d been eyeing me up at Jake’s party all night, the stares getting more blatant the more he had to drink.

He’d looked so damn good I was practically shivering by the time he touched me.

It was the first time he’d ever touched me like that, pulling me into his lap as we shared a drunken kiss.

But then Jake had walked in, and Liam had practically shoved me off his lap, rebuffing me.

Jake was too drunk to remember catching us, but I’d replayed that moment in my mind, wondering if it had meant anything to Liam or if he’d seen it as nothing more than a drunken mistake.

Judging by the way he’d kissed me today, by the way he was looking at me now, it must have meant something. But what?

“Mia,” Liam said, his tone filled with warning as I picked up his hand from where it rested by his side.

“I think it started something like this,” I said, taking his hand and guiding it around my waist. I laid my own hand against his chest, sliding it up to his neck where I could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin.

He sat rigid beneath me, every muscle tense, as if he knew that once he started moving he’d never be able to stop.

“That never should have happened,” he said.

“But it did happen,” I shot back. “Just like the kiss at the studio today happened. Are you going to keep lying to yourself and pretending you don’t want this?” I shifted my hips forward, grinding down on a part of him that was clearly very interested in continuing with the evening’s performance .

His breath caught. His hands clenched. And then, finally, his voice broke.

“I’m not lying to myself,” he gritted out. “I know I want this.”

Finally! Was that so hard to say?

“But it’s still never going to happen.”

Before I could react, he dug his fingers into my hips. Not with hunger, but with finality. He lifted me off his lap like I weighed nothing.

Then he was gone. Just like that.

He flung the door open and disappeared down the hall, leaving it swinging in his wake. I just stood there, heat cooling into something that felt a lot like humiliation.

God, I hated him.

And I hated how much I wanted him to come back.