“I’m sorry, Damon. You have to know how wonderful you are. I mean you’re literally every woman’s dream guy.”

“Except yours, apparently.”

“It’s me, not you.” As the words left her lips, they both laughed. “I know how that sounds, but it’s really true. I like you a lot, but…”

“It’s okay, Trace. Is there someone else?”

She lowered her eyes briefly, then met his gaze. “Yes and no.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“To say the least,” she said softly.

“Well, I hope he knows how lucky he is. But you’d better stick to your guns about not settling for less than you’re worth, because you’re a pretty spectacular woman.”

“Right now I feel a bit like a dummy.”

He laughed. “You’re following your heart. There’s no harm in that. Thanks again for a great night. I’ll see you around.”

As he walked away, the anger simmering inside her rose to a boil. If only Diesel hadn’t followed her into the office. If only he hadn’t kissed her like she’d never been kissed before.

But it was so much bigger than that. It was two years of getting under her skin, making her obsess over the things he did. Two years of making butterflies nest in her stomach, all those heart-racing moments that snuck into her dreams, and then turning all that sizzling heat into something more, something that felt special and deep, after she was attacked.

If only Diesel didn’t exist. That might solve her issues.

She was so mad at him, at herself, at the situation, she debated hunting him down and giving that beast a piece of her mind.

DIESEL POUNDED THE heavy bag at the clubhouse, trying to drown out thoughts of Tracey on her date with pretty-boy Rhys. But it was like trying to silence the fucking roar of a train. Rhys was the guy who had made Diesel realize how much he felt for Tracey at that damn wedding, and now Diesel was making plans to leave town, practically handing Tracey to him on a silver platter.

Fuck.

He stalked away from the heavy bag, tearing off his gloves and throwing them to the floor. He lay on the bench, the weights already loaded on the bar. As he did a set of presses, his mind traveled back to that kiss. He’d been replaying it all night, trying to figure out if he’d fabricated her kissing him back, but he could still feel her tongue thrusting over his, her eager mouth devouring him. He could also still hear the venom in her voice. I don’t kiss guys who don’t respect me enough to answer to me. I’m done with you.