Page 64 of Chasing Sparks

“You’re right. You told me from the beginning who you were. I was a fool to believe anything different. There, I admitted it. Are you happy now?”

“Not fucking hardly.”

Suddenly, we’re right back where we started months ago—nose to nose, toe to toe, glaring holes into each other.

And I want her now as badly as I did that first day.

I want to swallow her kiss, wrap those slender legs around me, and back her against the picture window in full view of the street so everyone in Sparkwood knows she’s taken.

They’ll know Oriana Thorne belongs to me, and any man who steps too close will get their bones broken at every joint.

But before I can make good on that internalized threat, my phone rings.

With a huff, I pull it from my pocket and groan. It’s Casey. “Fucking perfect timing.”

Once again, I step right into it.

I silence the call, but not before Ori’s expression shutters. She knows exactly who’s calling, and it’s salt in a festering wound.

“I have to go,” she says, turning toward the door.

“We’re not done talking, Ori.”

My phone rings again, and Ori’s glare sharpens like a blade. “Better answer that. Seems Casey doesn’t take silence as an answer. She’s probably ready for round two with you … or is it round ten by now?”

“Nothing happened. It was business.” I lean in, my mouth hovering against hers, the energy between us crackling like a live wire.

Blood pounds in my ears, and I’m two seconds away from dragging her to her office, ripping every stitch of clothing fromher body, and sinking so deep inside her that the only words Ori can form are my name as I make her come again and again.

But I don’t get the chance.

Ori steps back, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Not my business who you’re doing business with, Ash. You reminded me of my place last night. Kindly find yours.”

She turns on her heel and storms out the front door, the bells clanging against the wood.

With a strangled grunt, I smack the counter before stalking outside to my bike.

No idea where I’m headed, but I need some air.

For the first time in forever, I can’t breathe.

After freezing my ass off on an hour-long ride, I return to Black Lotus. This time, Braden doesn’t bother to hide his amusement at my predicament, but I’m not in the mood to talk.

I’m still too damn mad.

Thankfully, I have a packed afternoon, which keeps me physically occupied.

My brain? That’s another story.

Sometimes, I want to call my ex, Lucille, and ream her out for what she did to me—how she tore me apart and left the pieces to rot.

But that would mean admitting how she broke me, and I’m damn sure not walking that path. Never again.

Hell, I never even heard from the woman again after that random, late-night phone call. Should’ve known she was drunkdialing, because after our brief chat, she promptly fell off the map.

She’s good at that. Really good.

Not that I care. I feel nothing for Lucille.

---