Page 183 of By His Play

I shake my head.

I’m angry, but that won’t stop me from getting on my knees and begging to have her back in my life.

Dramatic? Maybe.

But I don’t care.

I need her.

I’m starting to believe she’s never going to appear, and my irritation rises further.

Thoughts of her being back in town for ages and not telling me float around my head.

She’s barely been talking to me. I was happy to believe that she was in St. Louis while ignoring me. But was she right under my nose all this time?

Before long, I’m sitting in the dark, aware that I’m probably going to scare the shit out of her when she does finally let herself in.

But I can’t find it in me to care.

I’ve almost given up hope when I hear a key slide into the lock.

My heart jumps into my throat.

All this time, all I’ve wanted is to see her, to talk to her, to be able to look into her eyes and know that she’s not drowning like she was in St. Louis.

The fact she’s here should tell me that she’s finding a way to get on with her life, but I still need to see it with my own eyes.

Each of her light footsteps rocks through me like gunshots. But nothing compares to the moment she finally flips the light on.

Her eyes widen with fear the exact moment she finds someone in her apartment a beat before she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

But I don’t focus on her fear. I can’t. Not when I’m fueled by nothing but fury.

I surge to my feet and march closer to her, leaving the couch between us. “Where the fuck have you been?” I bark.

“What the fuck, Kieran?” she squeals, her right hand covering her chest, where her heart is most likely trying to beat out of it.

As she tries to catch her breath, I let my eyes run down her body.

She’s wearing a zip-up hoodie and leggings. Her hair has been pulled back into a ponytail, although most of it has escaped and is curling around the sides of her face and neck, and her cheeks are flushed.

“Where have you been?” I repeat, needing an answer.

“Fuck you,” she spits. My eyebrows shoot skyward in shock.

Effie has never spoken to me like that before.

“Excuse me?” I seethe, watching as she takes off toward the kitchen.

She remains silent as she yanks the refrigerator open and pulls out a bottle of water.

She twists the top with more force than necessary, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s picturing doing it to my head.

She takes a drink, and my eyes automatically drop to her throat as she swallows.

My mouth waters, and I lick across my bottom lip, remembering how sweet that skin tastes.

But any good memories of our time together are thwarted when she slams the bottle down so hard on the counter it sloshes out of the top.

---