Excerpt

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Steel-gray doors slid close before them with a click. 

"What?"  he sighed. The question sounded more like a complaint. A flash of a scowl momentarily put curious lines on his tan face. 

Her total silence was beginning to irritate him, she guessed. Not entirely her fault that her brain couldn't cope quick enough. She just didn't expect he'd show up and  stay in her  hotel room. "I-I thought you weren't coming."

"Fucking traffic," he mumbled as his eyes darted around the small elevator. Some aggravation sharpened his expression.  "Why didn't you text back?"

Their stares locked. His warm hand held onto her, until his tight grip on her arm made her pull away.  

"Sorry,"  he muttered before he faced front. The look on her face must have been one of pain. Now he caressed her arm that hurt a bit.

The gentle strokes completely held her attention, and her tongue-tied self couldn't stop admiring his face, him being so close. His familiar cologne—his fresh, soapy scent—was starting to recall memories she'd been trying so hard to bury in the back of her mind.

His frown made her more uneasy even if she didn't want to seem so. The guy pushed the button numbered '3', and his tired blue eyes never left her face after that.

The elevator trapped them in—though only for several seconds—all the while her brain racked to take in everything.

Cheap flippin' wine. A full glass didn't even relax her at all...and he continued to stare.

Something was happening. At first she thought it was the useless wine finally kicking in. But it wasn't.

It was him. Just him.

• • • • • • 

"How's that for breakup sex?" 

Darn it. He was still that pissed.  This was going to be a long night.  His crude, rhetorical question felt like another deep stab in her chest, but, she had to let it slide. She had to remain the calm one.

Clearly, his inebriated and emotional state was urging him to pick a fight again, and that they weren't done wrecking each other's self-esteem with hurtful words. To keep him restrained, she had to put up a façade, pretend like she didn't want to run for the door and be alone. Have some privacy. Cry to herself till she ran out of energy and tears.

"How's your day?" was her plain and pleasant response while she sat next to him in bed. Veronica leaned closer when he didn't answer. She really did mean to ask how his day went. 

Did he go club-hopping with his model friends in the city? Or had he been drinking alone at some bar?

Her hushed question put a frown on his picture-perfect features, no matter how good and sincere her intention was for asking.  He sighed shortly and got up from the bed, leaving her alone on the covers again.

At the moment, she was wearing his shirt but nothing else underneath.  She simply didn't have the energy to get off the bed and put her clothes back on. 

Still barefoot and ignoring her, he stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Okay.

So he wanted to be alone? Did that mean he was finally letting her leave now?

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