Filthy English (11 page)

She leaned against the wall of the elevator, obviously exhausted as she gazed at her phone, checking social media. Her mouth was uncharacteristically turned down. She suddenly straightened. “What the heck?”

“What?” I craned my neck to see what she was looking at, but she swiped the photo away on Instagram. “Was that Hartford?” I asked, a sinking feeling growing in my stomach.

“Shit. Yes.”

“Is he with someone?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. You know how hard it is to interpret social media. It’s fake and filtered. You can’t believe half of it.”

I scowled. “Show me the pic or I’ll just bring it up on my own phone.”

Sighing, she scooted over next to me and swiped her phone back to the photo. It was Hartford at Cadillac’s, one of the local college bars at Whitman. Next to him—right on top of him—wearing an overly brightly smile was a perky blonde with super white teeth.

“That’s Katrina Somebody. She’s in most of his pre-med classes,” I said, clicking on the picture, taking in every single pixel, looking for large pores or a flaw on her perfect face.

Was she prettier than me? Smarter? Funnier?

Bottles of beer littered the table and several people photo-bombed in the background.
Were they
together
, together?

I searched Hartford’s smile, his eyes, looking for a clue. His sandy-blond hair had recently been trimmed and his jaw was shaven. Wearing a plaid button-down shirt I’d never seen before, he radiated confidence; no sign of the conflicted guy who’d told me he needed to think about us before he made a final commitment.

Lulu shrugged. “He captioned it #studybuddy #goodtimes.”

I flattened my lips, studying how Katrina’s hand curled around his arm, how his head tilted in her direction.

I looked at the date of the posting. Our wedding night.

Emotion poured in, making my chest freeze. I took deep breaths and braced myself against the cold wall of the elevator.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just the guy you spent two and a half years on out with someone else.

I wanted to throw up.

“Remi, I’m sorry,” Lulu said, a pained expression on her face. “I’m just messing up your entire night, aren’t I?”

“I’m fine.” I breathed out, handing the phone back to her.

At least I wasn’t tossing out expletives, beating my fists on the walls, or crying. Definitely progress.

“You’re too calm. It’s kinda freaking me out.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You’re trying to figure it out and put meaning to it, but more than likely, it’s just a random pic.”

“He looks happy. She looks happy. I think they’re
together
. Maybe I wasn’t the one for him and he saw it.” I bit my lip hard. Blinked.

Her face reddened in anger. “If that asshat cheated on you, I’ll freaking kill him when I see him. . . .
dammit
. . . he’s such a gargantuan ass! He probably goes to some kind of asshat convention each year in, I don’t know, Asshat, Texas.”

“Tell me how you really feel.” I sent her a weak smile.

She nudged her head at the pic. “He’s black and white and you’re digital color, babe. You can do better.”

“Like who?”

“I may have had more than my fair share of martinis tonight, but I definitely noticed sparks between you and Dax. It’s weird. He’s starting to grow on me. It’s just—tonight at the diner, the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you. I want a guy to look at
me
like that.”

“It’s lust. That’s all Dax has to offer anyone. He only wants to have fun.”

She stewed on that as the door swished open at her floor. “I can walk you to your room and we can talk for a while if you’re still wide awake?” she offered.

“No. Get some sleep. Don’t worry about me.”

She grudgingly left. I waited until she got in her room, and then I popped back in the elevator and pulled out my phone, which had been turned off. I turned it back on, but instead of getting on Instagram and stalking Hartford, I pulled up my phone contacts and gazed at the cell number Dax had added before we’d left the diner. I snorted when I saw he’d added his name as Sex Lord—but with a question mark. Was this Dax’s version of humility?

My finger hovered over the call button.

What would I say?

The elevator pinged for my floor and I got off. With a deep exhalation, I tucked my phone back in my clutch while at the same time digging for my key card.

“Where is it?”
I muttered, riffling through the zipped side pockets.

Awareness that I wasn’t alone in the narrow hallway seeped in, and my eyes swept the area. No one was going to or leaving their room, but at my door I saw a male figure reclining on the floor, his head dipping into his chest as if he were asleep.

What was he doing here?

I walked over to him and bent down.

“Dax, wake up.” I shook his shoulder gently. “Hello?”

Heavy eyes fluttered, squinting open. “Remi?”

“Who else would it be?” I plopped down on the carpeted floor next to him. “The question is, what are you doing outside my hotel room?”

Bloodshot, tired eyes roved over my face and landed on my lips. “After you left, I got this weird feeling. Paranoid that Chad knew where your hotel was or that he’d gotten your full name. I called you but you didn’t pick up, so I came over to make sure you were okay. I tipped the porter to give me your room number.”

“My phone was on silent since we talked to the police. I just now turned it on. Sorry.”

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, coming more awake and scratching at his unshaven jaw.

“We walked from the Tower of London. Guess I was too hyped up from everything.”

His eyes narrowed. “You should have come straight back.”

I arched a brow. Smiled. “Since when do you keep tabs on me?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, stood, and put out a hand to heave me up. “Maybe I’ve decided you need a bodyguard 24/7 just to keep you safe.”

“You applying?” We faced each other inches apart.

“You don’t want me to fill that position. We both know it.” He blew out a breath. “Come on, get your key out and let’s get you inside.”

I found my key, slid it through the slot and opened the door. Dax stepped inside in front of me and held the door open as I came through.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Give me a sec,” he said. “I want to check the room.”

What?
I was fine.

No one was in my room but him, and he was the one I didn’t need to be alone with.

He stalked around the space, checking the bathroom, under the bed, inside the closet, and even outside the window to the small iron balcony.

“Only a ninja can scale that,” I said, watching him in bemusement.

“Looks clear,” he said, stumbling over his feet as he walked toward me.

“Dax. You’re exhausted. Please, sit down.” I pointed at a chair. “Why don’t I get some coffee sent up for you before you head back?”

“No, that’s okay. I didn’t drive. I took a cab right after you.”

“Well, I’m pooped.” I set my clutch down, kicked my shoes off, plodded over to the bed and fell backward right in the center of the plush duvet. Rose petals the maid had placed there flew in the air.

I lifted my arms above my head and stretched. My eyes closed. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad to be in this big bed tonight even if it is without getting laid. Although the night is still young.” I giggled, opening my eyes and winking at him.

I meant it as a joke, of course, but his face darkened and I immediately stiffened.

The room stilled, filling with tension.

I sat up and pulled my shirt down.

His eyes landed on my lips. Bounced away. Came back.

He raked his hand through his hair and it fell back into a perfect tousled mess. “Um, I need to head home.”

He turned to go.

“Wait.”

What are you doing, Remi?

I stood up, suddenly breathless, and met his intense gaze. He was beautiful—even tired. My eyes went over him, taking in the steely eyes, the tension in his broad shoulders, the way his hands were clenched at his side—the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Oh.

I swallowed and nudged at the comfy chair and ottoman in the corner of the room next to the window. “Do—do you want to sleep here?”

“No.”

My arms crossed and I forced out a laugh. “Don’t be silly. Stay, I insist. We can have coffee in the morning and talk. Here, let me grab some extra blankets and a pillow from the closet. I saw them earlier when I was unpacking.” I brushed past him, but he grabbed my hand, causing me to come to a halt.

“No, Remi.”

“
Yes, Dax
. It’s what friends do. We help each other out.”

“It’s not a good idea.” His voice had grown husky and he hadn’t let go of my hand.

“Why not?” My thumb was stroking his palm as if directed by a part of my brain I had no control over.

“Because if I stay in this room with you, it’s going to be in that bed, and we aren’t sleeping.” His eyes searched my face, lingering on my mouth.

“Why—why do you always stare at my lips?”

His eyes darkened.

“Dax?”

He sent me a hooded look. “Because I want them on my mouth, kissing me. On my skin, sucking me. Everywhere.” His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, gently tugging it down.

I shuddered, quivering from the picture he painted.

He dropped his hand and exhaled deeply. “We agreed to be friends, but when you stand this close, all I can think about is stripping you out of that shirt, pushing you down on that bed, and screwing you until you moan my name a hundred times before noon.”

“Only a hundred?” I said.

Stop it, Remi!

His lashes dropped. “You’re in dangerous territory, Remi. Tread carefully . . .”

“Just . . . let me touch you. That’s all.” I reached my hand out and rested it on his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

We stared at each other, and a million
what ifs
raced through my head.

What if we had sex? Would it ruin our fragile friendship?

What if he immediately moved on to some sorority girl this fall? Would I fall into that pit of despair I’d been in three years ago?

What if I let go of the past and just did what my body was screaming for?

You’d have one hell of an orgasm tonight.

His eyes narrowed, a muscle jerking in his cheek. “I can’t handle this. I’m barely hanging on here.”

“Me too.”

He lowered his head until his mouth was an inch from mine. “Forget friendship. I want to fuck you.”

His words banged around in my head.

My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “Hartford . . .” I stopped abruptly at the anger flaring in his eyes. God. I hadn’t meant to say his name. He hadn’t even been on my mind.

“Exactly.” He let go of my hand, a pulse beating at his temple. “Goodnight,
friend
.” He sent me a final look and turned and walked out the door.

I WOKE UP
at one in the afternoon to the smell of bacon frying and the sound of Spider yapping on the phone. Rubbing my face, I crawled out of bed and sat on the edge, snippets of last night in Remi’s hotel room coming back to me. I groaned. I’d really cocked it up with her last night, and I hadn’t even been drunk.

Clearly I’d been thinking with my dick, especially when she’d been flashing those legs, prancing around the room and offering to let me sleep in the same room as her. No doubt—us in a hotel room was a recipe for disaster.

I got angry again, remembering her saying
his
name and not mine.
Sonofabitch.

Moving on from thoughts of her, I looked around the room. I’d be leaving next week, I thought as I took in the cream and white color scheme Spider had gone with. Roomy and furnished in mostly chrome and leather, it was a nice flat, and he was quite proud of it. He’d hired a designer and had a hand in picking out all the rugs and accessories. He took it seriously because it was his, and even though I could be a messy bastard, I’d picked up after myself.

My phone pinged with a text.
Declan.
He and Elizabeth were the two people I missed the most this summer. They’d fallen hard for each other last fall—two of the luckiest people I knew. Just watching them together made me envious, and part of me wanted the magic they had, but I was too scared.