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Walking over to the wrong cabinet in my kitchen, I mindlessly open it like I don’t know where my own fucking glasses are. I sigh, cross over to the correct one, and grab a glass from the top shelf.

“Wow, you are like super tall,” Lydia chimes from behind me. I spin around, nearly dropping the glass.

“Christ, Lydia. Didn’t I tell you to stay in my room?” I ask, eyeing the way my T-shirt swallows her whole, dropping to mid-shin.

“Yeah, well, I’m not really a girl who does what I’m told, sunshine,” she says, smirking. When she proceeds to wink, I resist the urge to roll my eyes straight into another dimension. Brat. Should I tell her that I’m an excellent brat tamer? Yeah, probably not.

“Clearly,” I say instead, sidestepping to fill the glass with water. I hear her soft steps following after me.

“Oh, come on, big guy. Don’t tell me we’re already back to one-word sentences. I thought we were past that. I mean, I’ve already been invited into your house. I’ve slept in your bed. It is all very fast, I must admit. But hey, I can do fast if that’s what you want.”

I finish filling the glass, turning to glare down at her. I plan on telling her exactly why she’s wrong about every word, but all thoughts abandon me once my eyes find hers. She’s sporting a huge, giddy grin, and fuck if it isn’t downright adorable. Wait, no. Not adorable. It’s fucking bratty. I’m chalking up my momentary lapse in judgment to my sleep deprivation, which also happens to be her fault.

“You’re suddenly very chatty,” I say, choosing to ignore her words altogether as I hand the glass down to her.

She takes it, our fingers brushing in the exchange. I grimace from the contact, and then double down when she starts chugging the water like her life depends on every last drop. She releases a low, throaty moan, and I have to restrain my thoughts from becoming words. She finally finishes the water, placing the glass down on the counter to her right.

“Thanks,” she says, patting my bare chest with her ridiculously small hand.

Thanks?! That’s the only word she has to say for herself right now? I inhale long and deep as I glare down at her hand still planted firmly against my chest. My skin burns beneath her touch, a fire begging for fuel. Her eyes trail down my body and then back up again, landing on mine as I watch her intently. She swallows, and the way her throat bobs makes me imagine filthy fucking things. She drops her gaze to my mouth, and I shift awkwardly, needing to get away from this. It’s too much. I can feel my control slipping, and I can’t let that happen.

I am in control. I am always in control.

“So what are we doing today?” she asks, finally dropping her hand and stepping back. I feel like I can suddenly breathe a little deeper, see a little clearer.

“I’m sorry … we?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

She gives me a look that says yes, we, and then proceeds to make herself comfortable right in the center of my large black sectional. I try not to imagine bending her over the arm of my sofa and spanking the shit out of her for having me this worked up. I’m getting ready to command my inner thoughts into submission when her voice breaks through the noise.

“Yes, silly,” she starts, patting the cushion next to her. “Come, sit with me, Callum.”

My lungs cease to move air at the sound of my name leaving her lips for the first time. I school my expression into one of indifference, and I don’t move an inch in her direction. There’s no fucking way I can trust myself to be that close to her right now. Instead, I walk over to a bar stool at my kitchen island and take a seat facing her. Still, the distance between us isn’t enough, and it makes my skin itchy and hot. I lean back against the bar, one knee bouncing up and down as I watch her. She rolls her eyes, leaning back into the cushion and throwing her feet up onto my coffee table.

I suck in a silent breath as I train my gaze on her feet atop the table. The same table that I don’t use because I don’t want to ruin it. The same table that I don’t allow anyone to use. So why am I allowing her to keep her fucking feet on it? My eyes slide up her legs, stopping at the way my shirt rides up her thighs. I swallow, clearing my throat as I avert my gaze entirely.

“We aren’t doing anything today. I have things to do. Alone,” I say.

It isn’t a lie. I need to stop by my gym to blow off a little steam, and then I promised Riven that I’d deal with his father for him. We left Dorian Reilly hanging in the torture room at Sonus, and as much as I’d love to leave his ass there forever, we can’t.

Dorian was working closely with Sabel Matthews, the CEO of Sonus Corp. Sonus Corp was Reverb’s record label, or so we thought. In reality, Sonus was planning to mind control all of Hollowcrest into sublimation using our fucking music and my fucking best friend’s voice to do it.

I’m sick at the reminder, wondering what Sonus would have done had we not intervened—had we not killed Sabel and captured Dorian. The thought haunts me, but I know that we had no other choice. I’m not into that murder shit like Riven is, even if he did do it for vigilante reasons.

Lydia sighs, tilting her head. “Aww, come on, Callum. Live a little. Let’s do something fun today.”

She’s grinning in that stupid, adorably bratty way again. It makes me want to smack her ass raw before inevitably giving in. The thought alone is so dangerous that it has me regretting taking her on that date last night. My knee bounces faster as my control slips by the second.

“Pass,” I say, without another thought.

My tone was a bit harsh, I’ll admit. But the last thing I need to be doing right now is anything with Lydia fucking Aston. She’s already burrowed herself far enough beneath my skin that everything beneath the surface feels inflamed. I need to leave as soon as possible, and preferably before I scratch my skin off.

She frowns, jutting out her lower lip into the perfect fucking pout. It’s too bad that shit doesn’t work on me. I glare at her long enough that I think she might drop the act and show me who she really is. Now that, I’d love to see.

“Well, okay then,” she snarks, standing from the sofa.

She holds my gaze, her ocean eyes darkening a shade as she struts over to me with all the confidence in the world. As much as I don’t want to admit it, the sight of her fury sends my thoughts straight into a fucking tailspin. I always did have a thing for a woman with a backbone. I rake my gaze down her frame as she nears. This one might be small, but I can tell she’s full of fire—a fire that would burn me to the fucking ground if I let it.

“No. You know what?” she starts, lifting her chin and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s your loss, sunshine.”