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She stops in front of me, leaning down and bracing her hands on the hood of my car on either side of me. My body tenses as she leans in until her mouth is near my ear, and I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin. Despite myself, I don’t try to stop whatever this is. I can’t stop it. My limbs physically will not allow me to. When she exhales, it sends shivers down my spine, and I’m almost positive my cock twitches in response.
What an intrepid, traitorous cock.
“I don’t need your help, Callum Thorne,” she whispers against my ear, lingering there for entirely too long.
One thing is blatantly obvious … Lydia Aston knows exactly what the fuck she’s doing. If she wanted to play, all she had to do was say so. I’m suddenly in the mood for all sorts of games, and I don’t even hear that voice in the back of my mind that usually tells me to stop.
“Sure about that, love?” I ask, my voice uncharacteristically dark and low.
Lydia turns her cheek, and her lips brush against the stubble on my face before she retreats entirely. She pushes from the hood of the car and stands in front of me, allowing her eyes to roam down my frame and straight to the bulge in my fucking sweats. Instead of rearranging myself, I lean back further, allowing her a front row seat to what she does to me. I’m still not sure why I’m playing at all, but if she wants to play dirty, then so can I.
Her gaze lands on mine again, and she swallows before turning on her heels and marching back over to her damn truck. I stare mesmerized for several seconds, watching as her perfect hips sway back and forth with every purposeful step she takes away from me. I resist the urge to reach out and pull her back to me, to throw her over my shoulder and teach her a goddamn lesson for taunting me like this.
“Go home, Callum. I can handle this myself,” she calls out, her back to me.
She saunters over to the truck and lifts the hood again, staring down into the engine bay like she has the slightest clue what the fuck she’s looking at or how to fix it. I sigh, pushing from the car and heading toward her.
I know that I should leave. I know that I should allow someone else to come to her rescue—someone who isn’t me. But none of that stops me from my reckless pursuit.
“Do you plan to start the engine by glaring at it?” I ask, leaning against the front bumper.
She drags her gaze up to mine, and if looks could kill, I’d likely have disappeared into the afterlife. I smirk, unable to hide how much I’m enjoying this for a single second longer.
“What’s it to you?” she asks. “You made your intentions blatantly clear when you walked out of my house. Why do you suddenly care?” Her tone is sharp and biting, all evidence of her playful banter gone. I fucking want it back, and that thought terrifies me.
“Lydia, I—”
I stop, unsure what I’m even trying to say to her right now. What am I doing? She’s right, I walked out of her life. So why the fuck can’t I walk away again? It’s really that simple. And yet, I can’t seem to make myself take a single step.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says, interrupting my thoughts.
She slams the hood, and I nearly miss having my arm smashed to pieces. Half of me wishes I had left it there, if only to feel something other than this unfamiliar ache gnawing at my insides—this strange concoction of desire and reckoning swirling beneath my veins. I should have left well enough alone when I walked out of her door. I shouldn’t be near her at all right now. Fuck, this is all too much.
I pace back and forth, running a hand over the back of my neck. I thumb through my thoughts like a deck of playing cards, unable to land on a single one I want to play. What I need to be doing is leaving, or helping, or anything other than what I’m currently doing.
Spiraling. I’m fucking spiraling, and I don’t spiral.
“What are you doing?” Lydia asks, anger and amusement laced in her tone as she watches me pace back and forth.
Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m always in control, always two steps ahead. If there’s a problem, I’ve got a solution. But right now, all of my thoughts are consumed by her.
Her presence.
Her warmth.
Her scent.
Her snarky responses and the sound of her laughter.
I can’t fucking think straight. Maybe if I just—
I stalk toward her, backing her against the side of her truck. Her eyes go wide as I cage her in with my hands on either side of her. She stares up at me through her lashes, eyes searching mine as her breathing grows quicker.
“What are you—”
“Shhh,” I whisper, pressing a single finger to her full lips. “Can you just shut the fuck up for one second?”
For a moment, I think she might protest. But instead, she stills and watches as I move my hand down to her jaw, tilting her head up and forcing her eyes to remain on mine. She watches as my gaze drops to her mouth and then back up, considering if this is truly the best idea my mind could formulate. Her chest rises and falls in acceleration as she searches my eyes in anticipation of my next move.
