Page 45 of Capricorn

Primal.

Undeniable.

Just like when he watches me every night as I writhe against my hand.

“They’re gone, Novalee, but we’re here.” He tangles his fingers into my damp strands, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.

In fact, I’m sure of it as his attention dips to my mouth. For some incomprehensible reason, I don’t know if I’d try to stop him.

Isn’t wanting two men enough? Why am I feeling these things for Oliver Whitney?

But there’s something about him that tugs at my heartstrings, even when I wish it didn’t.

Am I that mentally unstable? Or is this a rebound?

I gnaw on my bottom lip, my heartbeat stumbling. “It’s your decision whether to touch me…but I’m asking you not to.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” His hand slides free of my tangled locks. “You’ve convinced yourself that by giving in, you’ll betray Sebastian’s memory.”

“That’s not true, I don’t?—”

He takes me by the chin, locking me into place, making retreat impossible. “You’re allowed to want someone else. Believe it or not, it helps.”

“And you want to be that person.” There’s no question in my tone. Everything about this man screams I want you.

“Yes. If not me, then who?” He leans into me, his spicy scent invading my senses. “I know you miss him, but who else can make you feel like this?”

I lift my chin, forcing him to let go.

“Tell me, Novalee, because I know your blood’s rushing right now, causing an itch you’re dying to scratch.”

“What if it’s an itch I’ve already scratched?”

His brows furrow. “Liam?”

Silence is all he gets.

“I take it something happened before you transferred into my house?”

“Well, it sure hasn’t happened since.” Not even by my own hand. Truth is I’m not sure why I keep holding back, except…

It’s exhilarating, the way Oliver watches me every night. I’m becoming addicted to the attention, to the ache low in my core that lingers long after he’s gone.

And then there’s the anticipation. The possibility that one night he might actually step inside my bedroom.

It’s a secret hope I can barely admit to myself.

“I can’t do this with you.” I jump up from the couch and fold my arms across my chest.

But he’s right behind me.

Out of sight.

Not touching, just hovering.

“I think you can.” His exhale hits my nape, sending delicious shivers down my limbs. “And I think you want to, so I’m going to haunt your doorway every night until you do.”

“Why are you doing this?”

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