Page 44 of Never His Girl
I should’ve shut him out.
I should’ve—
“Please, Southside.”
My eyes fall closed and I blame this slight weakness I feel on the Vodka. It’s the only excuse I have when I take a step, turn, and slowly let the door swing open between us.
Otherwise, I’d have to own the fact that he still has some small measure of power over me.
“Two minutes,” I say through clenched teeth. “But just know… therewillbe conditions.”
Chapter 15
BLUE
I don’t miss the relief that sweeps over him when I give in a little, but he doesn’t speak.
He’s so mild tonight, lacking the abrasiveness and sharp edges I’ve become accustomed to. It makes him hard to read, because this isn’t the side of him I know. I’m reminded of what Joss said on the bus as we traveled to regionals, though. She described him in a softer light. One where he’s a loyal friend, a good person.
He steps into the room and I’m immediately on guard, scanning him with my eyes, like I expect him to draw a weapon of some sort. Only, that’s not what I fear when it comes to West. I’m quite familiar with his typical arsenal, and it consists of venomous words and public humiliation.
The door latches and I wince a little, staring as he sets the last vase on the carpet beside him. Right away, I wish I’d thought to turn on more lights before letting him in. Instead, we’re bathed in a soft, flickering glow—far too romantic a setting for what I anticipate to be a heated discussion.
He stands there, silent, raising his brow.
“Well?” he asks. “You said there were conditions.”
My gaze shifts toward the closet and I move that way, slipping a second robe off its hanger. When I hand it over, he smirks, visibly confused.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Security,” I answer. “Strip and put your clothes and phone in the closet. I’m not taking any chances you’ll record this conversation.”
At first, he chuffs a short laugh. Then, he realizes I’m dead-ass serious and shakes his head.
“Wow,” he mutters to himself. But then, the next second, he complies.
While I expected him to step into the bathroom to undress, he surprises me by pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion, mussing his hair in the process. A breath hitches in my throat at the sight of taut skin I can still feel against my palms. Against…allof me.
He moves on to his belt and the sound of the metal buckle clanking is the only sound in the room for a moment. Then, his zipper lowers. My jaw ticks with tension as he drops his jeans and boxers at the same time, and even steps out of his socks before kicking it all inside the closet.
And there he stands, naked in all his otherworldly perfection, not a shy bone in his body. It’s unavoidable when my eyes lower, past the toned ridges of muscle at his waist and hips. They land on the gloriously thick masterpiece hanging between his solid thighs as he stands there so relaxed, casual. Two words come to mind and I blame them on the Vodka.
Fucking magnificent.
I force my eyes to snap to his as he takes the robe I’ve just shoved toward his chest. Of course, he takes his time slipping into it, only to barely tie the thing around his waist. In true West-fashion, he doesn’t give a shit.
“Happy?” he asks, shooting me a look.
I answer with nothing more than a nod, then do my best to ignore how the temp in the suite just rose a good fifty degrees. Not even kidding. Or maybe it’s justmytemperature that’s spiked.
I motion for him to sit in the armchair, across from where I’ve just lowered onto the bed. Hopefully, he makes this quick, puts his clothes back on and leaves.
I’m tipsier than I should be in his presence. My defenses are definitely down, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“You wanted to talk. So, talk,” I say, happy that at least my tone doesn’t give away my weakness for him.
Comfortable, West plants his feet and slouches a bit into the deep seat. I’m pretty sure I have a clear view of his junk, but don’t dare glance down.