Dangerous Exes (Page 14)

I missed her goodbye.

I only heard the click of the door.

And wanted to punch a hole through the wall when I looked out the window and saw her swipe at her cheeks.

Chapter Fourteen

ISLA

Satan.

Satan.

Satan.

I threw a pillow against my bedroom door and scowled in the general direction of his stupid mansion with his white walls and good wine.

And nice wineglasses.

I could still feel the heaviness between my fingertips.

Angry. I was angry. Not lusting after his glassware!

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? I was saving his sorry ass. Granted mine was getting saved in the process, but could he at least try?

I almost felt sorry for Vanessa in that moment. Almost.

Then again, he’d basically put me in that same damn box. Could I understand the similar circumstances? Yes. But I wasn’t manipulating him to keep him—I was trying to help him understand that people would see us and expect us to fail.

Failure was never an option.

I straightened my shoulders and went into the kitchen to grab a snack, only to nearly choke to death on a spoonful of peanut butter when a loud knock sounded at the door.

I shoved the spoon back in the jar and carried it with me.

I unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door a crack, then all the way when Jessie was standing there in a pair of low-slung sweats and a white tank top that didn’t have a right to look so nice with his muscles, and build, and pecs, and—I choked again on the peanut butter and drool that came with it but managed to swallow.

“You gonna make it?” He smirked.

I hated his smirk more than I hated his body.

Because it made me react.

Hell, everything he did made me react and want to seek vengeance with a fiery purpose on his damned soul.

He made me want to fight for no reason other than my adrenaline pumped from simply staring at his perfect face and small dimple near the right side of his cheek. Where did that even come from? Had he always had that?

“Isla?” He waved a hand in front of me.

I shoved more peanut butter into my mouth because I didn’t have words yet and I was still pissed off.

He glanced at the jar, eyes wide. “Why does it look like you added jelly to that already?”

I shrugged, mouth full. “I did.”

“Of course you did.”

“Saves time,” I added. “And tastes amazing.” And just because I knew it would gross him out and give me a reaction that wasn’t disappointment or anger, I handed him a full spoon. “Give it a try, slugger, you may like it.”

He stared at the spoon, the peanut butter was this giant glob with another glob of jelly on top of it. There was no part of it that looked even remotely gourmet.

He didn’t take the spoon.

No, because this was Jessie sexy Beckett.

He grabbed my damn wrist, wrapped his fingers around it tightly then pulled my arm forward and opened his luscious mouth—the one that probably licked the tears of all the virgins he’d deflowered—and wrapped it around the spoon. His tongue came out next.

My eyes bulged a bit as he worked the spoon like he knew his way around a woman’s body and wanted me to know he knew.

I flexed my legs.

I clenched.

I almost crossed.

And then he was done.

So I exhaled in relief.

“Good,” he said, winking. “The ratio needs work.”

He walked right by me into his property. Damn it.

“Well.” I trailed after him. “We can’t all be perfect.”

He flinched at my obvious jab, then turned around. “Two hours a day.”

I almost dropped the peanut butter. “Two hours a day you work out?”

“That too,” he said seriously. “But I have a proposition. Until this is all over with, whenever that is, we spend two hours a day getting to know each other. I won’t go into this the way I went into my last one.”

“Oh? And how was that?”

“Blind.” He said it so quickly I almost felt guilty for cursing him to hell a few minutes ago. “Colin warned me about his sister, but I was convinced I’d seen a different side of her, and well, I’m stubborn. I’d always wanted her and I was thrilled when the girl I’d always chased finally gave me the time of day.”

It was more than I knew.

More than Blaire had told me when Colin explained their relationship.

He shifted on his feet and did a small circle like he didn’t know what to do with his massive body. “It won’t look good that I know nothing about you and you know nothing about me. If we want to sell it, I need to know everything, the good . . .” He licked his lips and turned, giving me his back. “The bad, the ugly . . .”

“I’m a freak,” I admitted.

He froze and then looked over his shoulder. “Care to elaborate or do you want me to guess?” His smile was back.

I licked the peanut butter from my lips then smacked them together. “Guess.”

“In bed?”

I snorted out a laugh. “That would be your first guess.”

He tapped his chin, slowly approaching with a sexy-as-hell gait before stopping in front of me. “In the kitchen?”

“Nope.”

“Shower.”

“How are you a freak in the shower?”

He burst out laughing. “That’s fair . . .” He circled and then stopped behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. So silent. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. “By the looks of the place I’d say you’re a clean freak, but then so am I . . . not a thing out of place—”

“Is our two hours starting now?”

“Better now than never.”

“Okay.”

He guided me to the couch I’d had delivered from my apartment and then grabbed the blanket and put it over my legs.

Did he know I always used that blanket?

Why did I care that he cared?

Why was I still staring at the blanket like he’d just given me his firstborn?

“A freak . . .” He stared at my makeshift coffee table, eyebrows raised. “Well, I think I figured it out—you hate being late.”

I gasped and quickly tried to hide my schedule for the week, but he had already grabbed it. “You do realize people don’t use paper anymore, or highlighters really? You could just put everything in your phone?”

I snatched the papers away and held them to my chest. “I know, but what if I lose my phone?”

He gave me a blank stare and then smiled wide. “So this is your backup.” He lifted his hands and made air quotes. “Just in case?”

“Your air quotes are insulting.”

He did them again as he said, “So, this backup schedule, is it the only one? I mean what if your house burns down?”

My eyes widened in panic.

He grabbed my wrist. “Okay, I believe you, no need to make copies.”

I was already itching, thinking of the worst.

“Isla”—he tilted my chin toward him—“I won’t judge you if you do. And since you let me in on the secret, I’ll even let you use the copier in the house, just don’t sit on it butt-ass naked and leave evidence.”

“Fun ruiner,” I joked, suddenly feeling lighter than I had all night.

“Well, we did say rules needed to be established. I’ll say that’s rule number one.”

“Rule two can be no walking around in socks without shoes, I hate socks, they seem unclean.”