Page 54 of Heated (Burned, Inc.)
“If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t feel like I knewyoubetter—I’d think you did that on purpose.”
“Did what?” I whisper.
“Tease.”
I frown. “I’m not—”
“Yeah, I know.” His tone is a blade, razor sharp, and as he pivots back to the table, it leaves me sliced wide open. “Here.” He returns to me seconds later with a small dish piled with perfectly fried calamari in one hand and the remote to my TV in the other. “I was afraid to ask Miriam about your favorite shows on Netflix just in case she demanded a kidney, so you pick. I don’t watch that much television, so I’m open to pretty much anything.”
I woodenly take the remote and plate and set them both on the end table.
“Thank you, but we need to talk first.”
To his credit, he doesn’t wince or flinch at the announcement, but a shuttered mask slips over his face as he sinks to the middle of the couch, allowing distance between us.
“Cyrus, I need to apologize for earlier at lunch. My reaction was disproportionate to you asking me to accompany you on the retreat. As it was pointed out to me later, that had more to do with me than you, but I took it out on you, and I’m sorry for that.”
Surprise flashes in his eyes like lightning across a summer sky, though his expression remains aloof.
“Want to share any more details about why that has more to do with you?” he calmly asks.
“No.” I really, really don’t.
He nods. “Fair enough. It’s my turn to apologize, then. Given my profession, this might sound contradictory, but outside of the courtroom or mediation, I’m not great with words. It’s why I prefer contracts. Everything is written down, clear, concise, in black and white, with no room for misunderstanding.” He pauses, and his jaw clenches, flexes. As if he’s fighting the next words, battling to keep them in. “The past has taught me words can be twisted and turned against me, and silence is not only golden, but it can’t be misquoted. But today, I realized it can be misinterpreted. And harmful. So I’m sorry that I hurt you, Zora.”
No personal questions. No personal questions. I’m not curious in the least.
Screw that, I am. What in his past taught him that silence was better than having his words twisted and used against him? Who did that to him? Who’d hurt him? Better question ...
Who I gotta fuck up?
Down, girl.
Shit, right. Not my business. And Cyrus is a big boy now. Way more than capable of fighting and winning his own battles.
Still doesn’t mean I don’t want to grease up, slick my hair back in a ponytail, and have somebody catch these hands ...
My mental sigh could part the Red Sea.
“It’s fine, Cyrus. We both didn’t have our best moments today. There’s something symmetrical in that.” I shake my head, giving him a small smile.
He studies me, and the heat that had ebbed to a simmer flares higher.Don’t you dare squirm,I order myself.Don’t you do it.I manage to remain still under that intense scrutiny, but my panties have given up the ghost, surrendering a humiliatingly easy defeat.
“What?” I breathe.
“I told you I know how to fuck women, and I do. I’ve fucked white women, Black women, Latina women. Thin women, plus-size women. Poor, wealthy—honestly, I don’t know or care, because when I’m inside them, I’m not questioning how many zeroes are in their bank accounts. It might make me sound like a dick, but sex comes easy to me ... dating does not. Which is why Val is the first woman I was in a serious relationship with, period. I can only imagine how ... weird that makes me look in your eyes. A thirty-three-year-old man involved in one relationship. But there it is. So when you asked me if I’ve ever been with a woman like you, what I should’ve said was no, I’ve never been with another woman like you, because thereisno other woman like you, Zora. I’ve never had a woman who is sexy as all fuck but is my friend, not my lover. You are a beautiful novelty.”
I know how to fuck a woman, Zora.
I’ve never had a woman who is sexy as all fuck but is my friend, not my lover. You are a beautiful novelty.
I can’t breathe. My lungs and heart—hell, all my organs—have gone on strike while my vagina has happily taken the reins. And she is throwing herself at Cyrus with all the zeal of a pagan sacrifice.
I’m in so much trouble.
Because nothing in me right now is Team Friends. As I stare into those eyes, drink in the rest of his masculine perfection, and willingly drown in it, I’m all Team Fuck a Woman.
Because Cyrus Hart thinks I’msexy as all fuck.
