Betrayed (Forbidden #3)(33)
Author: Melody Anne

“Your turn,” he said, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her inside the cabin. But before he stopped speaking altogether, he delivered this warning: “You’ve only managed to delay this conversation, McKenzie. You will agree to go to the party with me.”

Maybe later, when he wasn’t in a sexual haze, he might realize what a dangerous road he was taking while he explored his infatuation with one McKenzie Beaumont.

Chapter Twenty-One

It’s a good thing I don’t spend every weekend like that one,” McKenzie said as they approached her house, a yawn slipping from her before she was able to stop it.

“I thought it was a pretty great weekend,” Byron said. He seemed offended somehow.

This was how he’d been behaving since they’d left the cabin in Idaho, though — grumpy and more like the man she had first met than the man who’d let down his guard for a couple of blissful days.

“It’s not that I didn’t have an amazing time. It’s just that I need sleep. Most humans do, you know,” she said with a false laugh. The closer they got to her house, the more downcast she felt. Their time was just about up.

She had managed to distract him from his discussion of next Friday’s party, but only because she knew he would regret inviting her the minute they separated. He was on a sex high right now, but McKenzie had no illusions about where she stood with Byron Knight.

They were consenting adults, they’d had great sex, and now it was done. They weren’t a couple, never would be a couple, and it was something she needed to keep reminding herself of. Yes, they’d managed to spend a couple of days together without the walls caving in around them, but that didn’t in any way mean that they were compatible.

Anyone could have sex. It was how the species survived. But men like Byron Knight didn’t settle down, and if they did, it certainly wasn’t with women like McKenzie. He would never look past the fact that she’d owned an escort service. He was an important businessman, and she was just dipping her toes in the waters of what she considered the legitimate business world.

She needed to appreciate the good weekend, finish her time at Knight Construction, and then get on with her life. The last thing she needed to do was go on a real date with Byron. That would put ideas in her head — ideas she shouldn’t be considering if she cared for her mental health.

After pulling into her driveway, Byron shut off his car and turned to face her. “Invite me in, McKenzie.” The intensity in his voice nearly made her issue that invitation.

At the last minute she managed to keep her mouth shut as she tried to form the right words. “We both know that’s not a good idea. I invite you in, we head straight to my bedroom. We had our weekend, Byron. It’s now time for us to go back to our real lives,” she said as she undid her seat belt.

She had to get away from this man — the sooner, the better.

“You know that you aren’t ready for this weekend to end,” he said, reaching over and cupping her neck before she could exit the car. “Your body knows what I can give it, so stop fighting me every step of the way.” That sounded like a command.

“My body — along with every other part of me, including my muddled brain — is exhausted,” she replied, only partially joking.

He paused before a beautiful smile filled his sensuous mouth. “Then we will just have dinner — no sex,” he said, looking at her as innocently as he possibly could.

Though she knew she should say no to him, she found herself nodding. He was right. She wasn’t ready for their weekend to end. It didn’t count as a date when it was still Sunday and they hadn’t parted yet.

Even she had to scoff inwardly at that absurd rationalization for spending more time with him now that they were back home. She knew that the more she prolonged this, the more it was going to batter her fragile heart. But knowing what was best and acting accordingly were two entirely different things.

“Wait,” he told her as he got out of the car. She was shocked when he came to the passenger side and opened her door. Byron never professed to be a gentleman; so what was he doing now?

“Thank you,” she said quietly, then waited while he grabbed her bag from his trunk.

They only made it a few feet when McKenzie froze in her driveway. Byron wasn’t expecting her to stop, and he bumped into her. “What’s the matter?”

She didn’t have to tell him. He turned his head and saw the same thing she did. Humiliation burned through her, and McKenzie found herself fighting tears as she stood next to Byron, the humiliation so much worse with him as a witness.

“Call the police now,” he said though clenched teeth.

“There’s nothing they can do about this,” she said with a sad shake of her head.

“That’s bullshit, McKenzie. This is vandalism and defamation of character,” he thundered.

“Please calm down, Byron. I don’t need the neighbors alerted to what’s going on,” she said as she looked around. Her embarrassment was already too high, so she didn’t need it to get worse.

“Really? That’s what you’re concerned with right now? What your neighbors think?” he fired off.

“Yes. Maybe you don’t give a damn what people think of you, but I do,” she snapped as she turned from the car and marched up her porch steps. She was on a mission to find sandpaper, spray paint, anything that would erase what had been done.

Byron caught up to her before she was able to unlock the front door. “Maybe someone saw something, saw who did this,” he said.

“I doubt it,” she said, and she got out her keys and opened the door.

“Dammit, McKenzie, something needs to happen!”

“Why, Byron?” she shouted as they entered her house. Her humiliation, her exhaustion, her stress all reached a peak. “You call me the same thing. So why in the hell do you even care?”

He took a step back as if she’d slapped him. “I would never spray-paint the word whore across your vehicle,” he finally whispered.

“What’s the difference between painting it on my car and calling me one?”

“McKenzie…,” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

She didn’t need to hear him try to explain himself. She knew who he was. She knew who she was. And they would never find common ground.

“Just go home, Byron. I need to get this fixed,” she told him, so tired she suddenly couldn’t even see straight.