Finally, he spoke. “You kissed me back.”
Right. Like what I did at seventeen years old was proof that I was hot for him or something?
Just because he’d turned out overwhelmingly fuckable—if I was stupid enough to go there, which I wasn’t—didn’t mean much. Despite the irritatingly sexy package, all I saw in front of me was the spoiled brat who made senior year a confusing kind of hell for me.
“I was a teenager,” I reminded him. “And you had me up against a wall.”
“You moaned.”
“Did I?” I tried to project half-interested confusion, like I didn’t remember that part. The most embarrassing part.
But how could I forget?
It was a beautiful night, other than that moment. I hated school. I hated being a “kid.” I’d always felt like a grownup in a child’s life. That night, I was graduating school and finally getting on with my life. I’d achieved what I set out to do—get school the hell over with. But then there washim. He had gorgeous green eyes that made me feel small and so very naive, so unworthy, even as his lips touched mine.
It was a vivid memory that punched me in the gut every once in a while.
Like right now.
“Too bad we lost touch,” he said mildly. “You’re interesting, Devi Sereda.”
What? Where was this coming from?
“I thought you hated me,” I said carefully.
“I can’t hate someone and also find them interesting?”
No. No, he could not.
I did not need compliments of any kind from this man. Including half-assed, confusing ones. It was doing strange things to my brain and the tequila wasn’t helping.
“I’m sure you had many girls from that school to keep in touch with,” I said, as coldly as I could. My boobs were sweating in this goddamn leather.
My panties were wet. With sweat.Justsweat.
It was really fucking hot in here. Couldn’t they open a door or something? We weren’t actually in Mexico, for Christ’s sake.
Dane was still staring at me. “They didn’t all turn out like you.”
No. No, he wasn’t flirting with me.
He wasn’t complimenting me. He was fucking with me.
Reeling me in, so when he told me I was fired tomorrow, he could jack off to the memory of my face when he destroyed me.
“I’m so flattered,” I said icily.
Sadly, seventeen-year-old Devi was flattered. But she was the dumbass who let Dane Davenport corner her and kiss her in the first place, so we weren’t really on speaking terms with her right now.
And the way he was looking at me? It was fucking with my head. Differently than when he tried to fuck with me at the office. Like he might actually consider wanting to kiss me, and not just to fuck me over. Although, of course, fucking me over would be a pleasant side effect.
I did not like whatever was going on behind those green eyes.
I needed to bolt. As soon as I got around to doing what I’d come over here to do.
Get on with it already, I prompted myself. Why was I sitting here, sparring with him unnecessarily? Letting him fake-flirt with me?
“I notice you’re wearing your class ring on your ring finger.” I glanced at the obnoxious class ring, probably from his prestigious university and asshole-frat-boy days, on his left hand. “I guess that means it’s really over.” I met his eyes, unflinching.