Page 9 of The Last Dance You Saved

The next thing I knew, I’d been torn from the dresser, and my dress was shoved into my hands.

“Stay here. Get dressed. I’ll come and tell you when it’s safe to leave.”

The door shut with a firm and yet quiet click behind him.

I stared at the back of it, lust turning to embarrassment that dissolved into fury.

What the actual fuck?

“What are you doing here, Fallon?” I heard him demand. His voice was dark and full of the same startled irritation I had swelling in me. I couldn’t hear his daughter’s response, but I heard his deep, furious exclamation. “You did what?”

Their argument drifted farther away. I looked down at the dress in my hands with its broken straps. Humiliation brought tears I blinked back. No way in hell was he going to find me crying. No. Way.

I slipped into the shimmering dress I’d been so happy to buy, allowing my anger to grow. I moved to the mirror over the dresser, found the broken straps, and tied them behind my neck in a way that would at least hold the top up until I got to my room. My cheeks were flaming. My hair was mussed. My mouth was bright red from the sensual kisses we’d shared.

I would have been happy to see this reflection if we’d finished what we’d started. I’d wanted one unforgettable night with a stunning man. If we’d been able to spend a few hours together, I would have left without ever knowing he had a kid…and maybe a wife.Goddamnit.

I’d lived nearly three years without sex. Lived three years growing the courage to let someone see my battered body, and this was what I got for it? Some asshole sleeping around on his wife? Some jerkwad who’d brought me back to his home and stripped me bare in his living room where his daughter could easily have caught us with my naked back up against the glass?

Asshole.

I had to squeeze my eyelids tight to keep the tears of anger and mortification from leaking out. I didn’t want him to see them and think I was sad. Screw that. I was furious.

I was almost tempted to walk out the door, down the hall, and slam my way out of the penthouse, leaving him to explain to his daughter just who I was and what we’d been doing. It would serve him right.

But it wouldn’t be fair to her.

And I needed my room key, which was in my clutch sitting on a table.

Would she notice? Would he remember to grab it?

I paced by the door, waiting in the quiet, and my temper grew the more minutes that passed.

Without my phone or any visible clock in the room, I could only guess how long I stood there before the doorknob turned.

He looked…stoic. The wall that had covered every emotion earlier this evening had returned in greater force. But his words were full of regret. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave.”

He had my clutch in his hands. I grabbed it and pushed past him. Even furious, with my body trembling now with anger instead of desire, the mere brush of his arm caused heat to sizzle through my veins. Those damn tears returned because what I’d experienced with him had been so beautiful. Stunning. Unimaginably powerful and real.

I stormed toward the door and felt him on my heels. I knew without looking that he was warily scoping the living room for sight of his daughter in order to slip me out like some dirty secret. What we’d been doing wasn’t dirty. It was human and normal, and it might have been the best few hours of my life if we’d finished.

Was his daughter old enough to understand that? She’d walked into the suite on her own, unless he had a wife who he’d also greeted, and I just hadn’t heard.

That made my stomach turn.

I made it out the door, and I’d already reached the elevator and pushed the button before he caught me, tugging my elbow.

“I’m sorry, Sadie,” he offered. It was emotionless. A half-offered apology.

My chin went up. “Do you have a wife to go along with the daughter?”

At least I got a true emotion this time. Shock and anger. “If I was married, you wouldn’t have been in my home.”

It felt like it was the truth, but what the hell did I know?

The elevator pinged, and the doors opened. I stepped inside and hit the button for my floor, but he held the doors.

“She wasn’t supposed to be here,” he said, voice low and dark and deliciously broody. “I wouldn’t have invited you up if she was.”