Page 145 of Wild Thing
Clumsily, I shoved the items back into the bag, before standing up andholyhellmyheadwaspinning.
Using one hand to steady myself against the wall, I took a deep breath. And then another, before I lost my balance.
“Woah," he said, catching my stumble. "Let me help you in, you’re a mess.”
Squinting, I shook my head. “No. Bye bye.”
He was the last person on earth I wanted inside my room.
I swiped my roomkey over the card swipe. Pushing my shoulder into the door, I entered my room without looking behind me.
Another critical mistake.
Placing my bag onto the hallway console, I turned around to see Steven had braced the door open with his arm.
Silent, he was staring at me. Like a predator sizing up prey. His laser stare raked across the entire length of my body, starting at my feet, then all the way up to my breasts where his stare lingered.
I'd seen this look before. Most women know the one. The one where the person disappears from behind their eyes, and something else takes over before they unleash violence.
My pulse quickened, my senses warning me to shut the door and lock it.
“Goodnight Steven,” I moved to close the door, just as he palmed his hand onto it, forcing it open further. The force slammed the handle into the wall, making a loud thumping sound.
He stormed in, kicking the door closed behind him.
He swayed past me.
“Steven, what the fuck?!”
He staggered around my room drunkenly, then back into the hallway, poking his head into the bathroom, searching for something.
Or someone.
“Steven, get out of my room.”
Instead of doing what I’d asked, he braced his arms on the bathroom doorframe, swaying on his feet. Looking at me with more savage intent this time, he bit his bottom lip.
Every alarm bell in my body was ringing. My nerves were frayed from the night already, but I could still sense danger. That instinct never switches off for women.
Pretending I wasn’t scared as hell, I pointed towards the door. “I’m not going to ask you again,” I said as sternly as I could. “Get out.”
Where is my phone?
I fretted when I remembered I’d put it in my bag, which was on the console behind me. Steven noticed the millisecond it took for me to spy where my bag was.
He moved fast.
He snatched my bag away and tossed it into the bathroom, out of my reach.
Flinching, I backed up a step.
“Relax!” Steven snapped.
I cursed myself for slamming those tequila shots, my reflexes weren’t as sharp as they would be if I was sober.
“You know,” he slurred. “I always had a feeling that you were a naughty, little slut.”
There was nowhere for me to go. He had me backed into the wall. I could smell the whisky on his breath. He was utterly wasted.
