Cooper

Hell. No.

With a single-minded determination, I set off towards the women’s bathroom I just saw her duck into. It’s time to let her know exactly where my head is at, and I’m sick of this avoiding game she’s been playing lately.

“You.” I point to the waitress who just came out of the bathroom that holds my woman inside. “Is there anyone else other than the blonde woman wearing jeans and a white shirt in there?”

She shakes her head slowly, her jaw slack and her eyes wide.

“Does that door lock?”

She again just nods her head.

“Good girl. You didn’t see me, got it?” I pull a fifty from my wallet and hand it to her.

She hesitantly wraps her fingers around the bill before hurrying down the hall. Who knows if she will keep her mouth shut. All that I heard and care about is that Chelcie is in there. Alone. And I’m about to make it perfectly clear that she is fucking mine.

The overwhelming stench of cheap perfume and fried foods is the first thing I smell when I walk through the bathroom door. It’s like being slapped in the face with it. Why don’t chicks understand that they don’t need to bathe in that crap? We don’t want them because they smell like the makeup part of the malls. You know, the part of the store you avoid because you feel like if you don’t stop and smell that stupid white card they might start running after you. Less is more. One of the things I crave the most about Chelcie is the subtle, sexy smell she has. I can’t even explain it. I can even smell it in here—just barely, but enough that my cock is straining to find her like some damn beacon.

Like fresh berries and the mouthwatering undertones of crème brûlée.

Goddamn. I can feel myself growing even harder. Visions of her underneath me as I slowly drive her body over the edge, smelling her on top of that lotion she is always rubbing into her skin… Fuck. I have to physically stop myself from storming up to her and taking her against the wall.

There she is.

She hasn’t seen me yet. She’s standing at the sinks, dabbing a wet paper towel against her face. I can tell that she’s been crying. Her eyes are slightly swollen and red. Her nose and cheeks have a blush to them that, if she wasn’t cleaning up the evidence of being upset, would cause the desire racing through my veins to hit a raging boil.

I watch in fascination as she lowers the paper towel, looks at herself for a few beats in the mirror, and smiles. This isn’t like the smile she had in the hallway. No, this is a smile I’ve been on the receiving end of before. The kind that makes me feel like the sun is shining on every inch of the darkness I’ve been trapped within. It is impossible not to feel touched when she turns that smile on you.

I find my own lips tipping up slightly. What can I say? It’s infectious.

She takes a deep breath, holds her hands to her stomach, and closes her eyes. I watch as her lips move slightly as if she is speaking before she smiles again.

Reaching down, I adjust myself quickly before she has a chance to notice that I’m here. Once I’ve curled my arm behind my back, I silently turn the latch and lock us both inside.

“Chelcie.”

Her eyes snap open and a look a horror and panic flashes over her features before she quickly hides it. A feeling of frustration washes over me that she is once again closing herself off to me. I have not one damn clue as to why she’s been acting like this lately. At first, she would walk on eggshells around me, but then again, everyone else did as well. Then, as we got to know each other better during the weeks she spent helping me research Dominic, I felt like she had finally let those damn walls down.

That she had finally started to let me in.

And then, last week, those walls didn’t just come up; they were enforced with a strength I just couldn’t wrap my mind around.

How did things change so rapidly?

“Chelcie,” I repeat when she doesn’t make a move to talk.

“You shouldn’t be in here, Ash. Aren’t you busy?”

Ah, so this is the way she wants to play it.

“Are you jealous?” I bait.

“Ha! Hardly. I don’t want to deal with another one of your groupies.”

“I don’t have groupies, Chelcie.”

I take a few steps and mentally grin when I see her chest start to rise and fall faster. Her eyes keep darting from my face to the door behind me. I let my lips curl into a smirk at the thought of her trying to run from me.

I’m done letting her run.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

She looks confused for a second before I see those damn walls getting thicker.

“Don’t,” I firmly state. “Do not even think about making those goddamn walls any fucking stronger, Sunshine. No more of that. Why have you been running from me? I come into a room you’re in and you leave. I call and you don’t answer. You’ve been there for weeks and now nothing.”

“I’m not running. I’ve been busy.”

“You can’t even look me in the eye, so don’t give me that line of crap.”

Her eyes narrow, and I watch in rapt fascination as she stands a little straighter, marches right up to me—toe to toe—and jams her finger into my chest. “You…you SHIT! Why would I want to be around you, Asher? Huh? So you can throw some more insults at me? So you can show me just how little you think of me, of our friendship?! Or maybe, just maybe, I need another little self-esteem knockdown.”

When she stops talking, her cheeks are flushed, her chest is moving even quicker than it was before, and those eyes I love so much are blazing with her anger. What in the hell did I miss here?

“Uh, Sunshine, I have no clue what you are referring to.”

“Of course you don’t, Ash. How could you possibly remember something that happened when you were so drunk you couldn’t even stand up straight? Let me ask you this. Do you remember what happened to give you all those damn claw marks on your body? Don’t even think about lying to me either. Let me guess. Another one of your skin-and-bones groupies?”

“I don’t have groupies!” The words are heavy with the angry power I feel forming in my gut.

“Yeah, okay, then you have an army of sluts. Easy bitches that you fuck every day or hour—I don’t know. But I know I’m sick of watching it.” She rolls her eyes, but not before she can hide the flash of pain.

“And why is that, Chelcie? Is it because you wish it was you? Because let me tell you, I wish it was you. Every. Single. Time.”