Rogue: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (A Deadliest Lies Novel Book 1) by Michele Mannon

Author:Michele Mannon [Mannon, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-05T18:30:00+00:00

17

Paris

“Holy sweet Mary in hell.”

I curse and stumble, straight into my new, less glamorous room in Montparnasse and down onto my hands and knees. Eye level with an empty, discarded French bourbon bottle.

Hastily, I fold back onto my elbows and crab-crawl backward. But it’s too late, he’s slammed the door shut with a resounding crash.

Damn, Jaxson’s good. I underestimated his tracking skills—heck, he never took anything seriously, so how should I know he’s got the sense of a goddamn bloodhound. How the heck did he find me?

I raise my chin, peer at him, and scrunch my nose. My room reeks like the aftermath of some college happy hour. Ironically, this is an accurate assessment, given the bourbon as well as my knowing that the days of happy hours between Jaxson and me are long gone.

“Are you drunk?” I demand, incredulously.

“Barely.”

Jesus. He’s in my room, has tracked me to my new digs, and all I can wonder about is why go on an uncharacteristic bender now? Yeah, Jaxson’s full of surprises. But I’ve never seen him like this.

“Dumb ass,” I tell him, “you’re leaving yourself open. I could seriously hurt you right now.”

He snorts. I’m unsure if this means he doubts I can kick his ass or worse . . . that I’ve already hurt him.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He scowls fiercely at me, his lips drawn in an increasingly unfamiliar tight line. Then, turning his back on me, the foolish, foolish man strides over to the small writing table beside the hotel-room window.

I scramble to my feet, all too familiar with the warm blush of awareness washing over me. His presence always does that to me. And the achingly familiar cocky tilt of his head reminds me of the sexy, blasé, balls-to-the-walls man I loved.

I watch him a bit breathlessly as he plucks up a chocolate bonbon from the delectable stash of sweets spread out buffet-style on napkins I’ve laid out on the table. Disbelieving what I’m seeing—he’s alive, drunk, and in my room, eating my damn bonbons. When he turns back to me, our eyes connect a second before he pops a little taste of heaven into his mouth, chews, swallows, then proceeds to make my life a living hell by darting his tongue out and licking the sugar off his lusciously full lips. Naughty boy. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And I find myself falling for it, over and over and over again.

Keep your patisseries, Paris. I’ve got a deeper hunger. A craving. For him.

“Help yourself,” I manage to say.

He plucks a second confection from the desk and consumes it in two bites, all the while raking his gaze over me, from my chest to my thighs and down to my strappy peekaboo-toed sandals. “Deceptive little morsels. So pretty on the outside—” He pauses to lick bonbon glaze off his fingers. “—but rotten to the core on the inside.”

God, he hates me. Jaxson honest-to-God hates me. And almost as bad is how I’m guilty as charged. Nothing I can say is going to change that.

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