The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1) (8 page)

Seven

Holy shit. Holy
holy
shit!

I must’ve had
more to drink than I thought because apparently I’ve been using
Heath as a frickin’ wall to rest against. And he let me! Ugh. He
needs to know that was not cool.

“What the hell
do you think you’re doing?” I hiss, ready to lay it all out for
him. “And what exactly is your deal because from the minute I told
you who I was, you’ve acted like you can’t stand me. What’s up with
that? Do you have an ex named Laney? Is that it? Because I’m sorry
if we share the same name but since it’s not my fault because I
didn’t choose it for myself, you can take that up with my mom.”

“It’s not
that…” he starts but I’m not finished.

“Or are you
gay?” I watch him blink and pull his head back surprised at my
question. Whatever. Moving on. “Are you jealous of my cheekbones or
something? I’ve got a lot of gay guy friends and a few of them have
told me my cheekbones are to die for, especially when I contour
them, but not one of them has been mean to me about it! So which is
it?”

He’s trying
not to laugh and I want to punch him. Except now I feel the alcohol
from that last drink kicking in and I’d be willing to bet my
coordination (which isn’t great to begin with) is on the fritz even
more so than it was when I tried slapping him. Wait. I tried
slapping him? Damn. Being around him has turned me into a
monster.

“You might
wanna look into some anger management classes,” he retorts with a
snicker.

And again I
want to slap him.

Oh… my… God. I
am
a monster.

I hate that
because I’m not a violent person but he just seems to bring out
every emotion I’m feeling whenever I’m feeling it.

It takes me a
moment to calm down and when I do, I hear my Auntie Georgia’s voice
in my head.

To win with a
man you’ve got to use your womanly wiles, my Little Laney
Lou-Who.

Auntie G is my
mom’s sister and has always been my favorite. She’s been married
five times and is a very wealthy woman from the proceeds she’s
collected from her divorces. But being married that many times
doesn’t make her a bad person. She’s the most vivacious person I
know and I can see where these men would want her to be their wife.
Mom has always said that her baby sister is a free spirit who just
falls too easily for these men, and when they find out they can’t
cage her, that’s where the trouble begins. Dad’s comment is that at
least Auntie G picks the rich ones.

So going with
her advice, I step into Heath wanting to laugh when he flinches,
then resting my hands on his chest look up at him seductively.
Immediately I feel the air around us crackling with the tension
between us which is off the charts. Wow. Ignoring it, I tiptoe up,
making sure to rub my cheek against his stubbled one until my lips
are at his ear.

“Baby, you
just do something to me that gets me all hot and bothered. I can’t
help it that I get emotional around you,” I coo sweetly making sure
my breath tickles his ear.

I can feel his
heart beating hard under my hand and his breathing has sped up. Hm.
Auntie G might be on to something here. I slide my hands up his
chest and wrapping my arms around his neck press my body against
his.

“So in answer
to your question,” I slide a hand into the hair at the back of his
head, then pulling him closer to me I suggest, “Fuck anger
management.”

I tug his
earlobe gently with my teeth then move away slowly making sure to
drag my hands leisurely back down over his chest then looking up at
him smirk as I say, “C’mon, Dani. Let’s go home,” and looping my
arm through hers I lead her toward the front.

“That was one
of the hottest ones yet, Laney,” Dani remarks with a giggle, having
seen me use this tactic a few times before.

“Auntie G is a
genius,” I retort with an answering giggle.

But what I
don’t tell her is that this time it took a lot out of me. Being
that close to Heath, pressed against his hard body like that and
taking in his spicy, manly scent all but did me in. He may be a
bastard, but he’s an undeniably hot bastard.

“I’ll walk you
back,” I hear him say from behind us.

I start to
protest but the Three Wise Men have suddenly made themselves known
and my tongue feels numb, like it’s flaking out on me, so I just
wave a hand in dismissal as we go outside. The Wise Men have
apparently taken over Dani’s entire body because she’s stumbling
along beside me and it’s all I can do to keep her steady.

When we get
across the street, she looks over her shoulder as we walk and asks
Heath, “So did you have a date tonight or did you just come to get
your drink on?”

“I was
working,” he answers.

For some
reason this makes her giggle but as she proceeds I understand why.
“Oooohh, are you a male escort? So what are the rates these days?”
She asks this as if she knew the old rates which makes me snort.
And even though it’s a silly question, I’m glad my best friend is
giving him shit because she knows what a huge jerk he’s been to
me.

He chuckles.
“You couldn’t afford me.”

“Oh, my God,”
I scoff thickly and hear him laugh.

At the
apartment building, Heath slides his security card into the slot
then holds open the front door for us. I consider not allowing him
to be this polite but nix that idea because it’d be rude. Instead,
I go on inside the building at least succeeding in letting him know
I’m not fooled by his chivalry as I stick my nose up while turning
away from him. His muttered words along with a snicker stop me in
my tracks which makes Dani stop too and she giggles again at being
wrenched to a standstill.

“What?” I
snottily inquire of him but I don’t think I’m coming off as
condescendingly as I’d like since I’m definitely drunk. And as
suspected, Dani’s worse than I am because I’m barely able to keep
her from toppling at our abrupt stop.

“You’re
welcome,” he retorts.

I frown. “Oh.
Yeah.
You’re welcome
,” I snip and keeping hold of Dani walk
toward the elevator dragging her alongside.

“Thank you,”
Heath says with a chuckle and I have no idea what’s so damned funny
so I just shake my head throwing in an annoyed huff for good
measure.

Inside the
elevator I resist the urge to push every floor button because for
some reason I think it’d be cool. But Heath’s standing next to the
panel, and the alcohol’s now screwing with my head which is making
my brain waver between my mostly feigned revulsion of him and the
genuine attraction I feel toward him and I don’t want to get too
close to him for fear of acting on my impulses. Whether it’d be
another attempted slap or me feeling him up is a toss-up.

Between floors
six and seven he breaks the silence. “You gonna stay mad at me
forever?”

Dani’s
informed me she’s tired and is now leaning her head against my
shoulder so that when I turn toward him, a chunk of her hair gets
in my mouth and I have to sputter to spit it out then use my hand
to smooth it back down on her head. I raise an eyebrow at him, or
at least I think I do because my face is now numb, and counter,
“You gonna hate me forever?”

He’s facing
the front standing like a bodyguard, holding his hands together in
front of him and, my God, even his profile is freaking sexy. Ugh. I
want to roll my eyes at thinking that but I’m fairly certain
they’re now numb too.

“I don’t hate
you,” he mumbles quietly still staring forward.

“What? What’d
you say?” I ask. Hey, it bears repeating.

He glances
over at me, the look on his face so suggestive, so full of wicked
intent, it makes my womb dip. Holy gah!

“I said…” he
begins and takes a step toward me. “I don’t hate you.”

We’re staring
at each other, me over the top of Dani’s head, him still looking at
me like he wants to devour me and I think I’d like that. God help
me.

The elevator
dings and right before the doors open, Dani announces, “Why don’t
you two just fuck already?” and I watch as she stumbles out heading
for the apartment where she digs her keys out of her clutch,
unlocks the door and goes inside.

As for me, I
haven’t moved a muscle. Nope. After her little communiqué, I’m
still standing here with my mouth hanging open as the elevator
doors close. It doesn’t move since no one’s called for it but it
hits me that I’m alone in the damned thing with Heath.

Without
looking at him, I whisper, “She’s drunk.”

When he
doesn’t say anything, I slowly move my eyes to his face to see the
look’s still there, he’s still gazing at me hungrily but it’s now
even more intense and I swear I gulp. He takes two more steps
toward me, making me back up until I have nowhere left to go, then
placing his hands against the wall to the sides of my head he
basically traps me in.

“Drunks
usually state the truth,” he mutters, his eyes burning into mine
asking for something I’m not sure I’m willing to give to someone
who’s got my head so messed up.

“Sometimes…” I
agree, my eyes going from his to his lips then back again and I
wonder what he’d do if I just climbed him like a tree right
now.

Boy, am I
drunk.

“This dress is
something else, Laney.” His eyes roam from my bare shoulder down to
my chest where I know my nipples are standing at full attention
against the fabric.

I’m tempted to
shrug his compliment off by saying, “This old thing?” but I’m
pleased that he likes it so instead I say, “You’re welcome.” Yep.
Drunk.

I watch in
fascination as one side of his mouth draws up into a half smirk
then I shiver when he moves a hand to run his fingers over my
shoulder watching them as they move.

But his
actions now have me all kinds of tangled and I throw out, “You keep
sending me messed mixages.”

“Do I now,” he
says bringing his hand up to cup the side of my jaw, his fingers
pressing in at the back of my neck. “You’re fucking stunning,” he
whispers, moving his face closer, our lips little more than a few
centimeters apart.

I’m waiting
breathlessly for him to kiss me knowing that it’ll be perfect, that
it’ll be the kiss to end all kisses, but he doesn’t move and we
stand there for what seems like centuries. Then I feel his fingers
tense at my nape.

“Tell me,” he
prompts making my eyes move to his and I watch as they go hard just
like they did this morning right here in this very elevator. “Are
you as fucking innocent as you try to appear to be?”

Wait. What?
Not this shit again.

My brow comes
down (I think) and I pull away from him as far as the wall will let
me. “You keep asking me that and I don’t know what you mean.”

“It means just
that.”

“You’re not,
you know,” I inform him.

The non
sequitur seems to take him by surprise. “I’m not what?”

“Very Noble,
like your name states.”

That seems to
get through to him for a moment but then he’s back to being a jerk,
narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously. “I can’t tell whether you’re
clueless or just a really good actress who doesn’t give a shit
where the money to buy yourself tasteless little dresses comes
from.”

Oh. My.
God.

Oh my God!

He did not
just say that! This dress might be a bit, well, show-offy, but it
was expensive and is most definitely
not
tasteless!

While I’m
still wrapping my head around what he’s just said and trying to get
my wits about me (and not punch him in the throat), he keeps going.
“So the innocent shit is all just an act to throw me off,
right?”

Wow.

I may still be
technically drunk, but I no longer feel it because my anger has the
adrenaline clamoring through my veins like crazy. God. Talk about a
literal buzzkill.

“You’re a
prick,” I snap pushing away from the wall and ducking under his
arm, rushing to push the “door open” button on the panel because I
need to get the hell out of here. Naturally, I stumble in the
process and of course he wraps an arm around my waist catching me
before I eat steel which only serves to infuriates me even more. As
I right myself I bite out through gritted teeth, “Get your hands
off me!”

Thank God he
complies before I have to go Solange Knowles on his ass and
hallelujah that he’s pushed the button himself and the doors open.
I can’t get out of there fast enough but damn it, I know he’s right
on my heels.

“Laney.” It
sounds like an apology but I don’t care.

Dani’s left
the door open and once I get to it, I’m already on my way to
slamming it closed. Except he’s followed me and is blocking me from
doing so.

Shit.

I jerk the
door back and order, “Get out!”

“No,” he
replies. He does it calmly which pisses me off even more.

“Yes!”

He shakes his
head and takes a step into me. “No.”

“Yes!”

He continues
moving toward me making me walk backward and since I’m still
holding the doorknob the door’s coming with me. When my back hits
the wall I want to scream.

“If you don’t
leave, I’m gonna use this door as a battering ram on you knocking
your ass into next week,” I snap.

That causes
him to come up short. Then he looks at me canting his head to the
side, amusement twinkling in his eyes, and throws his head back
bursting out laughing.

Despite how
attractive that is, I scowl at him and mumble, “I was being
serious.”

Looking down
at me and still chuckling he puts his hand in the same position it
was in the elevator, holding my face in his palm, his fingers at
the nape of my neck and when I try moving my head, he tightens his
grip and bends to look me in the eye.

“Your dress is
sexier than hell and I’m sorry for what I said.” I watch the
muscles in his jaws jump as he seems to contemplate what he’s going
to say next. “I guess thinking of those guys dancing with you,
putting their hands on you, set me off.”