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“This is only the beginning,” she said.
“How do you know that if you aren’t responsible?”
“I hear things.”
“Voices in your head? You need to see a doctor about that.”
Lake took another step towards her. She swallowed hard and took a step away from him. Her back was against the wall.
“Tell me, Kirsty.” He placed a hand on the wall beside her head. “Have you been thinking about me? Thinking about us?”
A flash of panic, followed closely by amusement, crossed her face.
“Don’t be daft.”
“I think that’s a bare-faced lie.”
She stood up straighter.
“I’ll have you know that I have many more important things to think about than you, Lake Benson.”
“Uh-huh, I bet you do.”
He leaned in towards her. She smelled exactly like warm vanilla custard. She licked her full bottom lip as her breath hitched. Her body language made her out to be a liar. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking? I can tell you if you like.”
He heard her heart pound loudly. He could feel the heat coming from her skin. One tiny movement to the right and his lips would be touching that fabulous, creamy skin of hers.
“I don’t care what you think,” she said, but her voice was a croak and her words were strained.
“I know,” he whispered before he leaned in and gently nipped the skin high on her neck beneath her ear.
She made a little whimpering sound. Lake followed it to her mouth and gently kissed the sound right out of her. For a second she melted against him as he felt his heart beat faster. He ran his hands up her arms, and as he reached her shoulders he felt her stiffen. She pushed him away.
“Stop it. I don’t do that any more.”
For the first time that he could recall, he felt genuinely shocked.
“You don’t do what? Let men kiss you in alleyways?”
Her face turned a deep shade of red.
“That and more—especially with you.”
Lake was genuinely stumped. Kirsty pointed at the mangled pipe.
“This is just the beginning, unless you give up this stupid war.”
“I’m not giving up,” he told her. “On anything.”
There was a flash of panic in her eyes.
“Well, you’re more of a fool than I thought you were.”
With that, she turned and stalked across the road.
Kirsty slammed the door to her flat behind her. The space was closing in on her. The colours that normally soothed her were over-bright. Her palms began to tingle as she felt her throat tighten. Deep breaths, she told herself. Long, slow, deep breaths. She stood in the middle of her living room and closed her eyes. That infuriatingly stupid man. She’d been a year free of any sort of anxiety attack. Now thanks to him and his stupid war—and his stupid mouth—she was heading right back to where she started. She wouldn’t have it.
