What's the deal with her and hotels? I wonder if she has a sugar daddy. Probably. And the shit must have a wife. That's why she's so fucking paranoid. Dumb ass. Selene isn't the one you keep secret, she's the fucking trophy you carry around and show off.

She walks over to the entertainment center and lifts a photo frame off the shelf. I see the disappointment in her eyes, and fuck me, it pisses me off to no end. I don't want her to look at me like that.

"Who is she?"

"My sister, Lexi," I answer taking the frame and placing it back down. I don't like anyone messing with my stuff. Another reason I don't bring chicks back here.

Selene narrows her eyes at me as if she's contemplating whether or not she should take me at my word.

"No fucking way did I plan on seeing you tonight. So before you start spewing shit, don't bother accusing me of renting this apartment to pull the wool over your eyes. I'm not fucking desperate." I'm not sure where my attitude is coming from, but it's ripe, and I'm unloading it on Selene.

"I know."

"I'm not married either. She's not my wife. I didn't kick her out for the night so I could trick you into coming back here. And I sure as hell didn't set up that fight for you to get hurt so I could whisk you away."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't going to accuse you . . ."

"Look, the truth is I am committed to a woman, and that happens to be her." I point to the picture of Lexi. "And that commitment is to make sure she's happy and no one hurts her. I held her and wiped the tears from her eyes for years after our father left, and I don't ever want to see her cry again. So if some prick screws with her, he's going to have to answer to me. But she has nothing to do with you, or anyone else I might want to fuck. Nothing at all."

She nods, not saying anything, but I see the change in her eyes, and I'm sure I just fucked up royally again. You can only strike out so many times before the game is over.

"She's beautiful."

"Thanks." I have no idea where she's going with this.

"I don't mean to be a bitch."

"Forget it." I turn away from her, realizing I let out more than I wanted. I don't talk about my family life with outsiders. With anyone. And here I didn't just air my dirty laundry, I fucking videotaped it and posted it online for the world to see. "Want some ice for your head?"

"No, thanks."

A long moment of silence creeps up on us. It's so heavy, I'm sure the roof is going to cave in.

"Cooper, you came on so strong," she explains. "I know how guys are. I've seen them play women on both ends of the country at the same time, swearing their unending devotion to each of them. And you've been so evasive about your personal information I thought you were hiding something big."

"Guys aren't the only ones that two-time."

"I know. I've seen that, too." Her eyes drop. There's more to this than she's letting on.

"Some shit head hurt you? Play games with you?" I reach out and brush her hair back behind her ear.

"No." Her eyes meet mine again. "But you scare the shit out of me."

"Me?" My nerves tighten and tug on my internal organs. "Why?"

"First, you're hot and you know it."

I smirk, not about to let her off so easy. "So are you." I can't help myself. I reach my hand behind her neck and pull her toward me, pull her against me so that we're chest to chest, heart to heart, and she has to look up into my eyes.

She swallows. "I don't think I've met anyone cockier."

I shrug. "You call it cocky, I call it confident."

"Exactly. And now I find out you're Jaxson Stone."

Here's the letdown. The biggest fucking let down of my life. I let out a long breath.

"I'm not Jaxson. He's fictional. He doesn't exist except for in the pages of those books, and in Kaycee Dugon's imagination."

"He exists in millions of women's imagination. The world loves him. And the women, all fantasize about him."

I dart my eyes off to the side, away from hers hoping not to show how fucking pissed and deflated I am that she can't get past this.

"Look, I know he's not real as in flesh and blood, but he is. He's you. You are him. You're all hot-alpha-male-hero. You show up and rescue the damsel in distress. I've seen it happen twice today."

"Okay, the sooner you understand this, the better. I'm no fucking hero. Today was extreme. Things like this don't happen on a regular basis. Don't get me wrong, the way you looked at me earlier, when you were in my arms, I can pretend to be anyone you want. But that's all it will be, pretend. Don't depend on me, or give me credit for being a great guy, because I'm anything but. I'm the complete fucking opposite of Jaxson Stone. And there's one more thing I need you to understand. No one knows. About Jaxson. I mean my buddies do, but that's it. You can't tell anyone. Promise me, Selene."

"You want me to keep it a secret?"

"Yes."

"I can't tell anyone that I got knocked off my feet in the middle of a bar brawl but before I hit the floor, I found myself tucked safely away in Jaxson Stone's arms?"

"You were in my arms." I growl, surprised at how fucking angry and jealous that statement is making me. "Not his." Even when I manage to so something good, I don't get credit for it.

"It doesn't matter. You saved me from getting trampled on, and it's hot. So hot I'm at war with myself, hoping you'll pick me up and carry me to your bed, the way you carried me to the car, and scared to death you just might."

"Tell me what you're afraid of," I keep my tone soft hoping she'll feel more comfortable with me.

"I'm not sure I'll be okay with being a one night stand, because the truth is I can't stop thinking about you. I just got back home last night, and I've been doing my best to forget you, but you're everywhere. It's all I can do to stay on my toes and not fall for everything you're saying, hook, line and sinker. And because of that, I know one night with you promises to be the most incredible night of my life. It'll stay with me and have meaning that it won't for you."

She wants me. She fucking wants me. I'm elated and throw nothing happening out the window. Something is going to happen, and it needs to happen right now before I explode.

"I want to let you in on a secret," I whisper in her ear. "I don't want just one night with you," I confess hating how vulnerable I feel.

"You don't?"

"No. And you have no idea what it'll mean to me." My hand moves from the back of her neck towards the front. I trace her lips with my thumb, then press down on her chin, parting her lips just enough to welcome my tongue. My heart picks up speed, it's sprinting and jumping over hurdles as I run my thumb over the moisture on her bottom lip. I wonder where else the moisture is building. I want to taste her, taste her lips, her mouth; taste her skin. My chest tightens with need. Just one kiss. I can handle one overdue, desperate kiss.

A breathy moan escapes her lips as I make the tiniest move toward her. I feel the effects of that sound, a sound I want to replay and hear amplified, in my pants. I know there's no way in hell I can stop with a kiss. A taste isn't enough to satisfy my pallet.

I pull back, let my hand drop so that I'm no longer touching her, and turn my back because it's the only way I can do this. The only way I can stop myself from sweeping her up and giving her what she wants. But it's taking a toll on me, my control is wearing thin as my mind runs wild fantasizing about ways I can get her to make that sound again. But that's not why she's here. At least it isn't why I brought her here.