Page 12 of Rage Finish

“Mind if I use the restroom?” I hedge, meeker than I’d like.

He glances over his shoulder with a frown. “Are you seriously asking me?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s your room.”

Wyatt’s face morphs into a bright smile, and he lets out a hearty laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Sloane. Of course you can use the bathroom. The only time it would make sense to ask is if I was already using it.” He shakes his head. “Go for it. I’ll get changed while you’re in there.”

“You know, if I wear the sweater in that bag, we’ll match.”

Glancing down at the clothes he picked out, he nods. “I didn’t see what she picked out, but I can change.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine.”

As he begins searching for a different shirt, I rush off the bed and close the door behind me, then brace myself on the counter. This is absolutely ridiculous; I’m acting like a fucking teenager with a crush. After relieving myself and brushing my teeth, I return to the bedroom to find Wyatt’s already dressed. I stop in my tracks and realize I should probably pick my jaw up off the floor. I’ve always found forearms sexy, but I have the sudden urge to lick his. He’s in the middle of rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down when his eyes meet mine, and I quickly look away.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep.” I fidget with the hem of my shirt. Without looking up, I can sense him walking toward me. When I finally muster up the courage to glance up, he’s holding out his hoodie upside down by the bottom.

“May I?”

I hold up my arms like a toddler, making him laugh. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He tugs the sweater over my arms, and I can’t help the giggle that comes out of me. As I shake out my hands to find the sleeves, he pulls the hood over my head. My bun is slightly askew, and I reach to fix it, but the movement brings my chest flush against his. Wyatt’s eyes are dark, nearly all of the brown in them gone. He leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek. I’m genuinely surprised it doesn’t fog up my glasses or his.

“We should get going,” he purrs beside my ear as I melt into a damn puddle.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “We should.” But I don’t move.

He takes a step back, lightly wetting his lips, then mutters what sounds a hell of a lot like, “Fuck it.” I’m about to ask what he said when he asks, “If I kissed you right now, would you slap me?”

I reply without a second thought, “No.”

8

WYATT

Ishouldn’t have suggested it. Never should’ve fucking thought it. Sloane had a shitty day yesterday, and here I am taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state. Did she verbally consent? Yes. But I don’t want her to regret it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. We hardly know each other and have a busy day ahead of us. Head down to one of the shops. Once you pick out whatever you need, charge it to my room, and have them call me if there’s an issue. I’ll stay here until you return.”

“Oh. I… guess I’ll go then.” Hurt paints her face, and I’m not about to get off on the wrong foot because of a miscommunication.

“Have dinner with me,” I rush out.

“Is that a question or a demand?”

“I suppose neither—a request.”

“If I say no, will you still front me for the lingerie?”

A laugh tumbles out of me. “Of course! But you really don’t have to pay me back. I never had a chance to properly ask you out before, so you can’t blame a guy for shooting his shot.”

“I guess not.” Sloane chews on her lip, drawing my attention to the brief movement. I’d give anything to take that plump lip between my own teeth, but it’ll have to wait. “I’ll be back in a bit.”