Page 78 of The Players We Hate
The words hit hard, stopping me for half a second. Then I closed the gap—not touching, but close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin. Close enough the air between us felt heavy with everything we weren’t saying.
Her breath caught. Mine did too.
“You keep pretending this doesn’t get to you,” I murmured, eyes on hers. “You feel it every time we’re this close.”
Her chin lifted, defiant, but her pulse gave her away.
“Then show me,” I said, rough. “Prove me wrong.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth before snapping up again. She stepped away, barely, but didn’t break whatever was between us.
“I’m not doing this with you,” she said, her voice wavering. “You don’t get to stand here, act like you care, then tear me apart in the same breath.”
“I care more than I should,” I admitted, the words scraping out. “And it pisses me off.”
She swallowed hard. “Then maybe we should back off before one of us gets burned.”
I didn’t move. Too late for that. The fire was already lit.
“No?” I stepped in, voice low. “Then why do you always look ready to tell me something you’re afraid I’ll hear?”
She flinched. Small, but I caught it. I’d worn the same look too many times.
“You’re scared,” I murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. “Of you? Your accusations? Not a chance.”
“Not that.” I leaned in, close enough to feel her breath hitch. “This.”
I brushed a knuckle along her jaw, skin warm under my touch, her pulse hammering. Her eyes widened, caught between fight and giving in.
“This thing,” I whispered, dragging my thumb across her bottom lip. “It scares the hell out of you.”
“You’re full of shit,” she breathed.
“Maybe.” My hand slid lower, resting at her throat just enough to feel the frantic beat there. “But you’re still here.”
She didn’t move. Her hands twitched, caught between shoving me off or pulling me closer, not choosing either.
That flicker was all it took. My control snapped.
I grabbed her waist and yanked her against me.
Her mouth crashed into mine before I could say a word, hard and desperate, kissing me like it was the only way toshut me up. My shoulders slammed into the cold stone wall, but everything else burned. Her nails tore through my hair, pulling me under even as she fought it.
She bit my lip, sharp enough to sting, and a growl ripped out of me. I pressed harder, grinding my hips into hers.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she panted against my mouth.
“The hell it doesn’t.”
Her broken laugh cut between us. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
And she did.
Her mouth returned to mine, all heat and teeth and fury. Nothing gentle. Nothing safe. Just hunger and anger colliding. I caught her thigh and hauled it up, fitting her against me, my body already there before my head could catch up.
