Page 113 of Hell and High Water

Our verbal sparring has always been our dynamic. A tug of war. A fencing match of flirting and insults that usually ended up with kissing or more.

Now it’s devolving into bickering. Actual fighting.

I should be kinder, with everything she’s been through recently. Except that she knows exactly how to push my buttons, and with how stressed I’ve been lately, I have no outlet.

I’m a fucking powder keg.

The elevator ride up to my floor puts me way too close to her. Heat from her shoulder has me nearly sweating in spite of the relatively cool interior of the elevator. Everything inside me wants to slam her up against the wall and rip her clothes off.

Simultaneously, I want out. I need out of the space.

I drop my keys twice trying to unlock the door.

Smooth.

“How many locks do you have?”

“Can’t be too careful,” I argue more defensively than I should.

Inside, she takes a lap of the penthouse, nodding her head appreciatively at the simple but elegant decor. She checks the fridge, the cabinets, making me want to snap at her to quit going through my things.

Of course, she’s eyeing me the whole time to see if I’m getting riled up.

“Do you mind if I freshen up?” Hellena finally asks, completing her exploration of my living quarters.

“Sure. Bedroom’s in there.”

“Thanks.” Some of the steam seems to have gone out of her as she heads toward my bedroom door.

I clear my home safe quickly, making sure I have my backup passports and everything I need in case we can’t make it back here. It takes three times of going over it for my brain to process what I’m doing. Distractions. Scatterbrained mess. Who am I?

Just talk to her. Open up.

I know that’s what Gavin would say.

Tell would roll his eyes at me and do everything he could to leave us alone together. Like they did today.

I’m royally fucking it up.

Taking a breath, I head to the refrigerator, grabbing one of the only things inside—a bottle of water. It’s a lame peace offering, but it’s an excuse to talk to her.

I’m just outside the door when I see her through the crack she left open, standing in front of my bed. She’s stripped down to her underwear, changing her clothes.

Swallowing nervously, I feel my pulse quicken, my blood start to simmer at the sight of her.

Her breasts, the line of her back, arching down into her perfect ass cheeks…

Hell’s eyes meet mine in the mirror as she looks to the side, seeing me in the reflection, and she frowns. Boldly, I push the door open, staring openly at her. I raise my chin, challenging her like I always have.

We lock eyes for a few seconds, the tension simmering to a boil.

“You could knock.”

“You could close the door.”

“You could try and not be an asshole.”

“You could learn what to expect.” I smirk.

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