Page 68 of Wicked Rockstar

I did a double take.

No peephole.

What in the actual fuck?

She opened the door, a paperback clutched to her chest. “Killian? What are you doing here? And why are you banging on my door?”

My jaw clenched. Why indeed? I needed to choose my words carefully. She’d made it clear she was done with me for the night. Yet, her safety eclipsed all reason.

“Killian. Seriously, is everything okay?” She bit at her bottom lip.

“No, everything isnotokay.” I raised my arm to lean against the top of her door frame.

Her eyes grew hazy as they looked at me, then at my arm, and then back to my face.

“You can’t live here.” My words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Trissa’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the haze quickly dissipating.

Her silence irritated me. “Did you hear me?” I asked.

She stepped closer. “I think every tenant of this hallway did.”

I opened my mouth only to have her cut me off. She jabbed a finger into my chest. “Just who do you think you are?” Her voice was low and controlled, but I could feel the anger radiating off her in waves.

I hadn’t meant to start our conversation with a confrontation, but here we were.

She gasped when I grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly. The contact sent a jolt through me, and her breath hitched. For a second, we were frozen, too close.

The air between us was electric, charged with tension and … something more.

I ignored her last comment. “You heard me.” I shook my hood off my head and edged my way into her apartment, taking her with me, then kicked the offending door shut. “Your locks are a pathetic excuse to keep someone out. Is this neighborhood even safe?”

“Yes,” she growled. “It’s perfectly safe.” Her eyes flicked to a spot above my head.

Typical Tink.

“Tell me while looking at me.”

“I am.” The lie rolled off her tongue. The wall above my head must be incredibly interesting.

I tipped up her chin and forced her gaze to meet mine. Storms of anger still swirled in their depths, but the roiling fury racing though me was greater. “Say it again.”

“I … This place is … ”

“Iswhat,Tink?” I said, pushing the words past my gritted teeth. My face was so close to hers that I could count the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her breathing sped up, making me want to run my hand down the column of her throat and feel the pounding pulse beneath my callused fingers.

“Ugh. The neighborhood is fine, Killian. We can’t all live in a penthouse in the city.” She shoved past me. “And you’re one to talk about safety.”

The tide of anger crashing through me ebbed, dying just enough to let an inkling of regret in. I didn’t like feeling like I let her down. “I thought we were past what happened on the yacht.”

Her eyes flashed, and before I could react, she shoved me hard with both hands. The corners of the book she still held dug into my pecs. “We’ve barely talked about it. You could’ve died, Killian!”

She probably didn’t want to hear that the danger of it all made me feel alive. She’d rather hear my other reason, that getting the drugs off the streets made me feel like I was atoning for the sins of my father.

Either way, I kept my mouth shut.

Tris stalked away from the door and entered her living room. The first thing I noticed was a framed photo of me, her, and Peter on the wall.

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