Page 50 of Undeniably Enemies

“But with hate comes heat, and that man wants to F your brains out.”

“Katy!” I half-choke, and she laughs.

“What? It’s true. I’m sorry, we all see it.” She pans a hand, and both Keegan and Kenna nod. “Well, maybe all of us except for Owen, who likes to live in his magical world of blindness and fairy tales where you’re still a little girl.”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” I shoot myGame of Thronesreference at her.

“I mean it. If I weren’t with Bennett, I’d be all over that. Jack is seriously hot. Like painfully so. And that look? Wooh.” She fans her face and I refuse to look back over at him. “I swear, my panties are getting wet on your behalf.”

“Oh my god! Shut up. You’re the worst.” I nudge her with my shoulder, and she laughs.

“We’re just saying,” Keegan continues, “that sort of tension only has one way to cure it. And that man is hanging by a thin thread.”

15

Let the record reflect that I, Jack Kincaid, am not a good man. I am a villain. More importantly, I’m Wren’s villain. A role I’ve had a love-hate relationship with. I kissed her. Why in the fuck did I do that? ’Cause I already haven’t been having enough trouble with this woman, I felt the need to pile on more? Then I watched her for the entire game because I couldn’t take my eyes off her. After that, I went fucking book shopping based on her recommendations and purchased the books she suggested. Then, like the twisted-up man I’ve been where Wren is concerned, I proceeded to jerk off in the shower to thoughts of her on her knees for me.

While I was in my new apartment next door to hers.

In the three days since I did all this, I still haven’t come up with a real answer for why. Well, that’s sort of a lie. I know why I kissed her. I couldn’t handle watching her panic and do the fours thing again. I get it. Being trapped in an elevator is a bit unnerving, and certainly no one’s favorite thing. But she wasn’t just a little freaked out or nervous.

She waspanicking.

Like, it was a legit concern in my head that she would pass out from hyperventilating.

Feeling helpless, I started that argument to distract her. I knew she’d take the bait. Wren Fritz never misses an opportunity to try and hand me my ass. I wanted to piss her off. I wanted her angry. I wanted her to forget we were trapped in a four-by-four metal box suspended in the air by only a couple of cables. But she stormed over to me with a sexy fire in her eyes and smelling like all kinds of heaven and made the ultimate mistake of saying she wasn’t my good girl.

I snapped. Broke. Something I swear I only do with her.

But god, that kiss. How she tasted. The sounds she made. The way she felt.

Shame and guilt made an ugly concoction in my stomach because for the first time, I wasn’t feeling shameful or guilty. No remorse. I wanted that kiss, and I took it. Probably because we both knew what it was. A hate kiss. A momentary distraction. Something that will never happen again.

Even if I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

And with that, I can’t escape her, but worse than that, she’s everywhere. Even when she’s not physically in front of me, I’m thinking about her. Wondering where she is and if she’s okay and what’s with the fours thing? Is it a calming technique, or does she have a touch of OCD she’s battling? Is it new, or has she always done it?

And what did Sorel mean when she said she’s had it rough? Is that where the fours come from? Did someone hurt her? Owen never mentioned anything about it to me. When I saw her step onto that elevator, at first not realizing I was on it, I thought maybe it’s time to put all this animosity to rest. She’s going to be my neighbor. She’s Owen’s little sister. She’s in my life whether I want her there or not.

Plus, she’s had it rough and I know Sorel wasn’t referring towhat I did to her. Someone else in addition to me hurt her and the guilt of that is clawing at me. The desire to find that person and eliminate them too. But I had to start with me.

I was going to apologize for everything I’ve done to her, tell her that I’m her new neighbor, and ask for a truce. Maybe even forgiveness. Then the car stopped and she started to panic, and I couldn’t force the words out. She would have killed me with her bare hands if I told her I was moving in next door while she was mid panic attack.

We’re undeniably enemies, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want her more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. And until I can stop thinking about or wanting her this way, I’m limiting my engagement with her.

Which is what I’ve done for the last three days.

I hardly saw Wren at work on Monday or Tuesday and only interacted with her intern. I didn’t look at her. Not even once. It was the same for her with me.I was fine with that. Talking to her at work wasn’t the best option. I was going to tell her yesterday after our shifts that I’m moving next door to her today, but she had already left by the time I was done. Now here I am, moving into my new place while she’s at work, and she has no clue.

Which is messed up.

Owen texted last night asking for my address so he could stop by and see it, and like the coward I am, I haven’t responded. He’ll find it funny because he has no clue. I, on the other hand, find nothing amusing about this. I want things to be easier between us, not harder, and I have no clue how to make that happen now.

It’s been pouring all day, but despite the miserable weather, everything has gone quickly and efficiently. The movers set the last piece in place, and after I pay them and shut and lock the door, I move from room to room, space to space, as I did last week. Only it’s different now. Boxes line the walls, furniture sitswhere it’s no longer empty, and my new couch comes tomorrow. I have a lot of work to do, and I’m glad I took the rest of the week off to get it done. But it’s everything I imagined it would be, and I won’t allow her to taint it.

Infatuations are temporary. They’re typically curiosity-driven. They’re foolish and unreasonable. Hell, I don’t evenlikeher. It doesn’t make sense that I would want her this way and to this extent, and with that, it’ll burn itself out sooner rather than later. I’m sure of it. That’s part of why I want the truce. Maybe if we temper all the bitterness and tension between us and she forgives me, I won’t have this lingering thing with her. Especially if under no circumstances do I kiss or touch her again.

I get started on the boxes and suitcases in my bedroom first when my phone pings with a text.

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