Page 59 of Property of Scar

The heat doesn’t disappear. It just gets buried.

I drag a hand through my hair, forcing my breathing to even out, forcing my body back under control as I turn toward the door.

I’m standing, arms crossed, putting three feet of mat between us. Scar’s expression is already settling back into that controlled nothing he wears like armor.

Rhett fills the doorway, and the look on his face when he sees the room is something between shock and what the hell did I just walk into?

“Oh shit… sorry—”

Bennett materializes behind him with his usual celestial gravity, takes in the scene in one sweep, and arrives at a conclusion his expression does absolutely nothing to conceal. “We should go…”

“Yeah… we’re going,” Rhett is already backing up, one hand finding the doorframe.

“This never happened,” Bennett says with absolute calm, which would carry a lot more authority if the tips of his ears weren’t turning red enough to betray him completely.

Rhett points. “Oh, it happened, or was about to—”

“Shut up, mutt. C’mon, let’s go!” Bennett drags him by the scruff, and then they’re gone. The sound of them moving fast down the corridor follows. Rhett mutters something, but Bennett doesn’t rise to it. However, the silence between them says it’ll come back up later, just not here.

The gym settles around us while I stare at the wall.

I brush dust from my hands, not looking at Scar. “Well, that was productive.”

A slow chuckle escapes his lips. “It was something,” he replies.

I nod once, as if that is a complete sentence, as if it answers the question I am not asking, and I pick up my water bottle, grab my vest from the hook, and walk out without mentioning the chaotic kiss.

The hallway is empty. The corridor stretches out ahead of me, like none of that just happened. I walk the entire length of it without slowing down, and I don’t look back.

But I feel it anyway.

I can still feel his hands on my hips. His lips on mine. The pressure of them lingers against my skin like he never really let go, steady and grounding in a way that’s gotten under my defenses far more than I’m comfortable admitting.

And it’s not just the touch haunting me.

It’s the space between us.

How fast it disappeared. How close we got before either of us pulled the brakes hard enough to stop whatever the hell that moment was turning into.

I can still feel the ghost of it sitting under my skin, like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact that it’s over.

I take the stairs without slowing down, forcing my focus forward while I drag my breathing back under control.

Doesn’t help much.

The memory follows anyway.

Heavy… persistent…

And entirely fucking inconvenient!

Chapter Fourteen

SCAR

The Next Evening

The call comes in at 11:47 p.m., and by the time Coil finishes the first sentence, I’m already on my feet.