“Get those assholes out of here,” I grit, gesturing to the group of dipshits, then I slip past him and march off the dancefloor after Winter.

Taking stride after stride, I pick up the pace to reach her before the elevator door slides shut.

“Dammit, Aleck!” she yells. “Leave me alone.”

“What the hell did I do to you, Winter? I have no damn clue.”

She holds her handbag close to her chest and lifts her chin. “Think long and hard, Playboy. You’ll figure it out.”

Playboy?

“This. This right here is why I don’t do relationships. You’re hot, you’re cold, and I don’t even know what the fuck I did.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” she says calmly, though the vein in her forehead says otherwise.

“No, I wouldn’t. Because the last time we actually spoke to each other, everything was fine. More than fine, it was fantastic. And since we’re on the subject of your increasing insanity and why relationships suck cock, let’s bring attention to the fact that you ridicule me for being a ‘playboy’, yet you go out with one man, let another press his dick against your ass on the dancefloor, and end up with your pussy under my tongue every night.”

“Well…” The elevator door slides open, giving Winter the perfect escape from having to take responsibility for her own part in this. “You can forget about that ever happening again, because I’m completely done with you, Aleck!” she shouts, forcefully sliding her keycard into the lock system, but it flashes red, denying her entry.

“And-and…” She slides her card through the door again only to be denied a second time. “I did not let that jerk press his dick against my ass. Men just think they can do whatever the hell they want.” The lock system flashes red a third time. “Damn it!” she shouts, stomping her foot.

Letting out an exasperated breath, I take my keycard out of my pocket, then slide it through the lock system. It flashes green and unlocks, causing Winter to roll her eyes.

She stomps into the suite, dropping her heels to the floor, then dumps her clutch on the kitchen island. I laugh because even though I’m so angry I fear I might actually combust into fire and burn this place to the ground, she makes me want to bury my face between her legs. Or do something that will make her smile. Better yet, the former, inducing the ladder.

Bratty, angry, sharp-tongued Winter—Baby Bulldog, if you will—excites me more than anyone or anything ever has.

She whips around, narrowing her golden-brown eyes at me. “Are you laughing? Am I funny to you?”

“What do you care? Aren’t you done with me?”

She narrows her glare at my face but her eyes drop to my lips when I speak.

“Are you sure about that, Winter? Because you’re still looking at me like you want to climb my lap and ride my dick. But, guess what, fat chance of that happening! I’m taking me and my cock off the table. Two can play at this game.”