“What makes you think I killed him?” I ask softly. She steps closer instantly.
“Because you looked at him like you wanted to.”
Fair.
“And now he’s gone,” she whispers. “Hayden…”
Something about the fear in her voice twists low in my stomach.
Not disgust.
Not horror.
Fearforme.
Christ!
I stub the cigarette out slowly before pushing away from the wall completely.
“You shouldn’t come looking for me when you’re emotional,” I murmur.
“Answer the question.”
I step closer instead. Ophelia doesn’t move backward. She never does.
That’s the problem with us. Even when she should run… she walks directly into the fire every damn time.
“You care?” I ask quietly as her breathing catches slightly.
“Of course I care. What the fuck?” she growls.
“About him?”
“No!” she snaps. “About you!”
There she is.
My chest tightens and I take another step forward until she’s trapped between me and the sinks. Her eyes widen but she still doesn’t move away.
“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I already make terrible decisions where you’re concerned,” I say as the air between us turns heavy instantly.
Her breathing grows uneven while my eyes drag slowly across her face. Mouth. Neck. Her pulse fluttering wildly beneath her skin.
“You’re insane,” she whispers, and I smile.
“Probably.”
“You can’t just kill people because you’re jealous,” she states, and I lean down slightly until my mouth hovers near her ear.
“He touched you.”
The words come out rough.
Possessive.
