Rory
“Yougotmeacar?”
My overcharged rage inviting myself in.
“You’ve got some nerve,” I erupt. Shoving a finger into Cole’s chest. He doesn’t budge a centimeter and it sets me off that much more.
By some miracle, the culprit of a witness was already in the hallway when I showed up.
“Good morning to you too,” he muses, as the one side of his mouth lifts in that sure way. He knows exactly why I’m here.
I ignore his pleasantries. They’re sarcastic anyway.
“I don’t want it,” I pant, ready to jab my finger at him again. He’s faster.
With more softness than I know he’s capable of, he grabs at my hand still lodged in the center of his chest. Extending his fingers, he pushes my lone one back down into a fist and holds it there. His hand over mine. Beating, right over his heart.
Something in my throat catches when our eyes connect and hold. Every new second that ticks by like another punch to my gut.
I somehow find the strength to put my focus elsewhere, those ocean eyes too intense. I regret where they go immediately.
His muscles flex, pecs solid. Same as I remember. Cole isn’t wearing a shirt and a light sheen of sweat glistens over his skin and collarbone. His flesh is still overly hot from the workout he must have just finished.
I’ve felt these before, tasted them even and I have the sudden urge to do it again right now. Feverish, why do I suddenly feel feverish?
Before I can help it, my tongue pokes out, wetting my lower lip. Eager to taste the saltiness of his skin. Lick and suck and bite at that vein that drums on his nape.
His heart rate picks up. I know because mine is doing the same.
I chance another glimpse, peeking up through my lashes only to realize his focus is on my mouth. Thick saliva builds in my mouth, but I swallow it down.
He exhales through his nostrils but it’s not out of anger at me coming over. It’s something else. His touch is hot, he’s burning me, but it’s not because of his physical heat from the workout.
Panic grips me, remembering, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m stepping out of his hold. I need the distance to think.
His jaw flexes, twitching in his disappointment, but he doesn’t fight me on it. Giving me what I want.
I pull the item out of my pocket before I lose all my nerve. “Is this another one of your jokes?” I ask in suffocating disbelief. “You think a car is an appropriate gift after what you did to the other?”
Thisis why I’d come here. Not for him to obliterate me from the inside out.
His frown deepens. “You don’t like it?”
I don’t have to see it to know I won’t. It’s a sick prank and I may have grown up in a circus, but I won’t be the clown.
I extend my hand, stubborn. “I don’t need it.”
“Don’t need it or don’t want to take it,” a low rumble escapes his chest. “There’s a difference, Princess.”
Both.
I snap my wrist in irritation. The key jingles, rattling in the stillness.
He hasn’t moved from his spot.
“Keep it,” he decides tightly.
“No.”