Page 65 of Burn

As he passes me, he playfully slaps my ass, kisses my cheek and whispers, “Get dressed.”

My mind spirals. Too playful. Too easy. Something is off about this whole thing. I spin, wrapping my arms protectively around my body, and ask, “What the fuck is going on?”

He’s leaning over the plate of food, stuffing a bite of pancakes into his mouth when I speak. I watch his body freeze and tense up, but he doesn’t turn around right away. He finishes chewing. I watch his jaw as it moves slowly. When he finishes, he sets the fork down on the plate with a clink, and his voice is low and cold when he asks, “What the fuck do you mean?”

Panic slithers through me, and I shift on my feet, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. “This,” I start, motioning to the room despite his back still being to me. “This domesticated as fuck breakfast set up. Pancakes? Music? Baby?” I can’t compose my thoughts fast enough to stop my mouth. “I’m not your baby, Adrian.” He slowly turns to face me, and the look in his eyes turns the blood in my veins to ice.

Shut up, Lex.

“You’re acting like everything is fine. Like this isn’t the most fucked up situation on the fucking planet.” I grow louder with each word, and my mind screams at me to stop. His gaze stays locked on me, his mouth twisted into a snarl. “You can’t just —”

He cuts me off. “I can do whatever the fuck I want in my goddamn house.”

“Right. Your house. Your house that’s mere feet away frommyhouse. Are we ever going to talk about how fucked up it is that you livehere?”

Oh god.

Stop.

He takes the first step toward me, and my heart pounds so hard, I’m sure he can hear it from where he stands. You’d think his advancing on me would be the motivation needed to shut the hell up, but no. “You’re playing fucking house. With pancakes and bacon. I don’t even fucking eat bacon. That’s how little you know about me!”

His jaw ticks as he takes another step.

“I don’t want this,” I hiss at him, and he takes another step. “I don’t want you.”

Lie.

Such a fucking lie.

Another step, and he’s right in front of me. Glaring and breathing heavily through his nose. He stands there, unmoving, and I finally fall silent, stunned by his predatory presence and the way he devours me with his eyes. I’m breathless, my chest rises and falls as I try to pull enough oxygen into my lungs, but the air feels too thin, and my head spins.

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice low.

I’m frozen, unable to speak or move.

“Good.” He nods without breaking eye contact. “If that outburst is done, I’d like the opportunity to respond. First, you’re a shitty fucking liar.”

“I’m not —” I start, but he holds a massive hand up, silencing me.

“Shut the fuck up. You are a shitty fucking liar. I’ve watched you parade around here for the last week, putting your body on display.” He reaches out, grabbing my hand and twisting the band of thorns. I wince as it cuts into my finger. “I offered to cut this ring off, and you were so quick to say no. Definitely something I’d expect from someonenotinto me.” I pull my hand away from him, and he smirks. “You come out of the bathroom, smelling likemybody wash.” He leans forward, breathing me in deeply. “Now you want to pretend you can’t stand me?”

My cheeks flush.

“I…” I trip over my words.

His lips brush my neck as he whispers, “I’m fucking trying, but if you want the bad guy, I’ll gladly play the villain in your story.” I tremble. He stands to his full height and reaches for my face. His grip is gentle as he runs his thumb across my bottom lip, his gaze dropping to watch the movement. “But, remember, you asked for this. Standing here in my fucking shirt, in my fucking house, you asked for my darkness, and I’m all too happy to oblige.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Now,” he says as he releases me and steps back. “Go and put on your clothes and get in the fucking truck.”

Adrian

My feet pound the ground as I walk across the parking garage. When I reach the truck, instinctively, I move to open her door, but I stop myself. Instead, I climb into the driver’s seat and slam my door so hard that the whole truck shakes.

No one person has held the ability to infuriate me the way she does with her snotty fucking attitude that seems to reappearevery time things start to settle down. Pancakes. I made her pancakes, and that was the catalyst to pick a fight. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white under the pressure, and seethe, waiting for her to get into the truck.

I spot movement out of the corner of my eye but refuse to turn to look at her as she slowly makes her way toward me. Without looking, I can see that her steps are measured, careful, and hesitant. Probably smart, given the way I’m feeling. I fire up the engine and crank the air conditioning, and as she settles into the passenger seat, she shivers and wraps her arms around her frame.

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