Page 16 of The Grump I Loathe (The Lockhart Brothers #3)

EDDIE

“ L ike what the hell was that?” Cassie asked for the millionth time since leaving the club.

“I don’t know,” I hissed, trying to get the apartment door open. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol since I was as sober as a judge.

“He was all over you!” Cassie gyrated her hips in a way that made my blood rush to my cheeks.

“I know.” I yanked on the doorknob and twisted the key, trying to shake the memory of Connor pressed against me, the heat of his hands igniting sparks of pleasure in my gut.

“Like all up in your business,” Cassie continued, doing a tipsy little stumble. “It was very ‘get a room,’ you know?”

“I know !” I finally got the door open, and we spilled into the entryway.

I could hear the TV in the living room, meaning Luna or Isabel or both of them were still up, probably catching up on episodes of The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives , their new obsession.

I latched onto Cassie’s arm and dragged her to my room, closing the door behind us.

I didn’t need an audience to witness this post-club confusion spiral.

Because what had I been doing dancing like that with my boss? Not even my direct boss. My boss’s boss. The boss of the entire company. Gah! A heady swirl of mortification and desire swept through me because it was good. Really good . I dropped my head in my hands and groaned.

“For a second, I thought the two of you were about to start making out on the dance floor,” Cassie said. “It was capital H hot.”

“How could you let me do that?” I swallowed, feeling the phantom weight of Connor’s hands around my waist. Truthfully, I had no idea Connor even set foot in clubs, never mind that he’d be at Clarke’s tonight.

But despite my protests, I had to admit I wasn’t mad that we’d been left alone. I’d been curious to see what it would take for Lord LockMill to let go a little, and I hadn’t been disappointed in the results. If anything, I’d been caught off guard by how much I liked it.

“How?” Cassie cried, collapsing on my bed as she cackled. “As if I could stop you! The two of you were looking at each other like a pair of horny jaguars about to go at it.”

“Jaguars?”

“Or like some sleek, sexy something,” Cassie said. “You know what I mean. You were a hot lioness prowling through the crowd, waiting to sink your teeth into your brooding but very attractive CEO.”

“I was not prowling. He approached me !”

“You were hunting him with your eyes! Why do you think I went over to the bar in the first place? To catch their attention, duh!”

“There was no hunting of any kind. ”

Cassie clapped her hands together. “Waiting for the right moment to strike!”

“You and Max set us up,” I grumbled.

“For the perfect opportunity to jump his bones,” Cassie continued.

“No bones were jumped!”

“But you wish they were,” Cassie said.

I groaned. It was ridiculous, but Cassie wasn’t exactly wrong. I’d felt that moment of connection, just like that day at the school, when I’d glimpsed the real Connor. The tension had wrapped around us like an elastic band. And yeah, part of me had wanted to chase that thrill, see where it led.

“I knew you liked him!” she squealed, sitting up so quickly she almost toppled off my bed.

“I don’t know if I like him,” I argued. “It was probably just all the club endorphins. You know I like to dance.”

Not like that , a voice in my head whispered. Not with just anyone . God, why did it have to feel so good to grind back against my grumpy, buttoned-up boss? Sticks in the mud weren’t supposed to have toned, powerful bodies like that, or big hands that cupped over my hips just right.

And they definitely weren’t supposed to pull the rug out from under my feet and ditch me there on the dance floor. What was that about, anyway? Until the moment he’d reared back and bolted across the club, there’d been a spark, right?

“You never get carried away with guys like that,” Cassie said, echoing my own thoughts. “Some part of you must like him. Even a teeny, tiny amount. ”

I emptied my purse on my desk. “What does it matter anyway? It’s Connor. Grumpy, frustrating Connor who wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the ass. I doubt he meant to dance with me at all. He’d probably just had too much to drink and?—”

“Girl, he so wanted you,” Cassie argued. “Even Max said Connor wanted to get lip locked.”

My pulse skipped. I knuckled at the space between my ribs, fidgeting with a tube of lip gloss. Stop , I told myself. You can’t want him like this.

A pair of jeans slipped from my desk chair. I picked them up, a piece of paper sliding from a pocket. I unfolded it to find Alannah’s suspension note. Crap . I’d forgotten to give it to Dad when I dropped Alannah off. I laid it on the desk so I’d remember when I saw them next.

“If he’d kissed you, would you have kissed him back?” Cassie asked.

“No,” I said immediately, tasting the lie on my tongue. “You’re blowing things out of proportion. All we did was dance.”

“There was some serious kiss potential going on. He was looking at you like he wanted to eat you.”

“He definitely wasn’t,” I insisted.

“There could be. We should find out for sure,” Cassie looked elated by the idea.

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You should ask him,” she said. “Then you’ll know if we’re reading too much into it. Maybe it was harmless dancing?—”

I crossed my arms against my chest. It didn’t feel like harmless dancing .

“—but maybe,” Cassie gave me a wicked grin, “he wanted to do some horizontal dancing.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned, picking up my pillow to whack her.

Cassie giggled, holding her hands up to deflect. “You know what they say about answers. Ask and ye shall receive. So just text him!”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. Get out.”

“ Doooo it!” she insisted. “It’s late, so if he responds then you’ll know?—”

“Exactly,” I said, hauling her up by the arm. Connor wasn’t interested in me like that, and I couldn’t be interested in him. “It’s late, and we both have to work tomorrow. I will see you in the morning.”

“Boo,” Cassie said, pouting as I escorted her to the door. “I want to know what he says.”

“I’m not texting him.” I pushed her into the hall. “Goodnight. Drink some water.”

“Fine! Don’t listen to my good ideas.” She sighed dramatically and stomped down the hall.

I closed my door, flopping down on my bed as a surge of…

something flashed through me. Text him? Honestly, it was ridiculous.

I closed my eyes, trying to wind down and clear my head, but my dress was itchy and my thoughts kept drifting back to those hot, sweaty moments on the dance floor, in his arms, when it felt like the entire world had narrowed to the two of us.

I remembered the way his eyes drank me in, his stare intense as his hands fisted in my dress. I remembered the feel of muscle as my back pressed against his broad chest, and it almost made me dizzy. An insistent pulse started between my legs.

I groaned, sitting up and looking for my phone .

Stupid idea.

I grabbed it from my desk, my eyes landing on the employee contract. There was an “in case of emergencies” contact page. Leigh’s number was in there. Darius’s. Connor’s .

Stupid. This was stupid.

And this certainly wasn’t an emergency. I bit my lip, flipped open the contract to the contact page, and entered the number into my phone.

Hey , I wrote. It’s Eddie.

I sent the message before I could talk myself out of it. Maybe Cassie was right. If he texted back tonight…maybe that would prove he was thinking about me, too. Maybe he was trying to figure out what had happened tonight. Maybe we could work it out together.

I started typing, then deleted it. What did I say now? I had to be subtle—if I’d read him wrong, I didn’t want to end up looking like an idiot. I locked in on something work related.

Had a thought about proposing a companion NPC. I think it’ll be a good way to deliver dialogue lines in sequences when Juni is alone. Maybe a little animal or something she befriends on the ship.

I released a pent-up breath and lay on my bed, contemplating my entire life, my heart pounding against his ribs. If he responded tomorrow, that meant he’d fallen asleep, and tonight didn’t mean anything. Right?

My phone buzzed against my chest. My pulse kicked up as I glanced at it. Holy shit! Is this your way of trying to work Mr. Cheesers into the game?

I mean, I was going to put the exact type of animal to a vote, but if you insist. I added a winky face.

Are you really texting me about rats this late ?

I do my best work in the middle of the night. Had I meant for that to have a double meaning? No. Did it? Maybe—if he read between the lines.

Why am I not surprised?

What can I say, dancing brings out my good ideas. Another long pause. I caught my lip between my teeth, heart pounding as bubbles appeared. He was typing.

Don’t even suggest office dance parties, because that is a firm no.

I grinned, typing furiously. You’re just worried you’ll embarrass yourself in front of the team with your mediocre dance moves.

Excuse me? My dancing, as Grace would say, is fire.

I snorted. I highly doubted Grace would say that.

Even if it might be a little bit true. I was used to guys either being stiff as boards on the dance floor or flailing around like idiots.

Connor was smooth and in control, like he knew what he was doing.

I couldn’t help imagining that relaxed confidence in other contexts…

But of course, I wasn’t going to admit that to him .

Keep telling yourself that , I shot back instead. Just know when you’re ready for proper lessons, I’m available.

I’ll need to see your moves again. Maybe you need lessons more than I do.

I bit my lip, the pulse between my legs throbbing. That could be arranged. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to let Connor take me in his arms again. Close the distance. Press his lips to mine.

Max thinks he’s doing me a favor by forcing me to go clubbing , he wrote. Tonight was the first time I didn’t completely hate it. For once, it felt good to let go a little .

I swallowed a gasp, thinking of all the different ways it could feel amazing to let go. I knew interoffice dating wasn’t allowed, but hooking up wasn’t really dating, was it?

I had a good time dancing with you, too , I wrote. Another winky face.

Me and my mediocre moves?

You’ve got some potential .

Dancing with the Stars, here I come.

I laughed. Late-night Connor is kinda funny.

Late-night Connor is hilarious. But he’s got an early morning, so he should wrap this up. Goodnight, Edith.

I’d always hated being called Edith, so why did imagining his voice saying my name send a little shiver up my spine? I flopped back on my pillow, getting comfortable as I tossed my phone aside. There was a line here, and we were blurring it. And what did it mean that he was letting us?

This was so stupid. How was I even going to look him in the eye tomorrow after grinding my ass against his cock and sending him flirty late-night texts?

Come morning, when the alcohol faded and the memories were hazy, his rules would come charging back in, slapping an entire no-dating policy between us.

There was no reality where us getting together worked.

I knew that. And yet the throbbing between my legs wouldn’t let up.

I slipped my hand between my thighs, clenching my eyes shut, letting my thoughts drift back to Connor on the dance floor.

I let my mind run away, fantasizing about what might have happened if he’d never pulled back.

How his hands would have felt all over my body, his fingers curving into me.

My breath came in heavy pants .

I turned to face Fantasy Connor and pulled him into a heated kiss. His arms wrapped around me tight, pinning me to that hard, strong body. He felt so warm, his presence overwhelming. For a beat, I could smell the spice and leather of his cologne, and then I was coming undone to my own imagination.

I pulled my pillow over my face and groaned, because that’s all Connor ever would be.

Nothing but a frustrating dream.