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I glare at him, torn between wanting to slap his handsome face and kiss his stupid mouth. “And you thought this seemed like a good place?”
He glances down at his feet and mumbles something.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Samson swallows, and I find myself mesmerized by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “I said at least you can’t run away.”
“I guess I learned from the best,” I hiss. “Because last I checked, running away was your specialty.” My anger and hurt swirl together inside of me, like a living, breathing thing. “You have no right—”
“I know!” He pleads with his eyes for me to understand. “I know I don’t. But I’m asking anyway. Please, Luna.”
“Don’t call me that.” I clutch the towel tighter to my chest.
“It’s who you are to me,” he says unapologetically. “Who you’ll always be.”
I roll my eyes and swallow down the nasty reply begging to break free.
“Get dressed so we can talk.” He takes a step closer to me. “Please?”
“Get out and I will.”
He scoffs. “So you can escape? Nah, I’m good.”
Slap… I definitely want to slap him.
“Look, I’ll turn around, okay?”
“Ugh. Whatever.” I quickly dry off before grabbing my pajamas, which are thankfully on the toilet seat and not on the counter, which he’s leaning his hip against like he hasn’t a care in the freaking world.
I pull my soft sleep shorts up my legs, tug on the matching bralette, and frown. I may as well have stayed naked for how well these cover me. And of course, my robe is in my room.
“You done, Luna? It’s late and I’d like to get some sleep.”
“By all means, go. Go sleep. I’m not stopping you.”
“That mouth,” he murmurs, the low, raspy sound sends a bolt of lust right between my thighs. “I’m turning around in five whether you’re dressed or not. Five... four... three...”
“Give it a freaking rest, I’ve got clothes on.”
Samson whirls around and immediately chokes on his tongue when he sees me. “Fucking barely,” he growls, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.
Despite still being wet, my entire body heats under his appraisal. He looks almost feral, like he’s barely restraining himself from reaching for me, as he takes me in. The sad thing is, even though I’m furious with him, if he were to make his move right now... I’d probably let him.
“Are we going to talk in here or can we maybe go somewhere with a little more space?”
He cracks the door open and pokes his head out. Once he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, he opens it fully and ushers me through. “After you.”
I brush past him, making sure to put a little extra sway in my hips as I lead him down the hall to my room, where we’ll be totally alone.
He groans and I grin. A case of blue balls is the least he owes me.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks as I climb up onto my bed.
I snuggle down into the covers and toss him an unimpressed look. “I don’t know, Samson. Was ambushing me while I was naked in the shower a good idea?”
“Well, last time I tried talking to you didn’t go so well.”
I gasp, pressing my right hand over my heart. “You mean when you cornered me at a party and demanded to know if I was drinking?” I scrunch my nose. “I already have an older brother... not really in the market for another.”
He growls and steps closer to the bed. So close his knees brush the mattress. “Not your fucking brother.”
“Or do you mean at dinner the other night when you brought me flowers, like they’d fix everything you broke?” I rub my head against my pillow until it’s just right. “I threw them away… in case you were wondering.”
A lie—I kept them on my bedside table until they wilted and died, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Did you even read the letter?”
“Yep, read every single word.”
“And?” he asks, his expression stupidly hopeful.
“And not a single thing you wrote down is enough to erase the hurt you caused. Words on a page don’t mean a thing—”
He’s on me in a flash, with one knee pressed onto the bed and his arms caging me against the headboard. “Cut the shit, Luna.”
I tremble at his nearness, at the fierce look in his eyes, at the way he looks like he wants to devour me whole.
“Samson,” I whisper his name, and it’s like something inside of him snaps. He lunges for me, claiming my lips in a bruising kiss.
I should push him away, tell him to leave, to stay away from me. I should scream and shout until my dad comes up here and throws him out.
I know I should, and yet the second our lips meet, all the reasons I’m mad at him slip away, leaving me full of an aching need that only his touch can fix.
