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No one answers.
I bang harder.
“Hold on! Jesus.” Zoey’s annoyance only fuels my anger, so when the door swings open, I don’t give her a chance to explain or say the word hello.
I barge in like the bitch I am. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I breathe sharply and look around the room. Her suitcase is open and neatly folded clothes lie on the bed like she’s been unpacking.
“I could ask the same thing about you,” Zoey barks back, but she’s shutting the door behind her.
“You’re not staying here.” I point a finger at the ground.
Zoey crosses her arms over her chest, and I lift my chin, breathing uneven, strange breaths. Imagining my lips trailing kisses along her breasts—I pop the fantasy out of my head.
“You know what,” she snaps. “I’m tired of people telling me where I can and cannot stay. Fuck th—”
“This is Aimee Kelly’s B&B, in case you’ve fucking forgotten,” I interject coldly, stepping towards her. “Don’t think for a second Kelly won’t kill you herself to attract more customers to the ‘haunted’ room.”
Zoey’s nose flares. “Please, you can’t honestly think she’d actually kill me…” Her voice drifts, considering.
My eyes heat. “This is Mistpoint Harbor. People get away with unspeakable things by blaming it on legends and curses. You used to know that.”
She glares. “I still do.”
“Good. Then you’re leaving.” I reroute to her folded clothes and pick them up.
She catches my wrist. “I’m not.” She pulls an old Pat Benatar T-shirt from my grip. Her eyes meet my fury. “I’m not scared, Kenobi.”
“You should be.” I catch her wrist now, feeling her quickened pulse underneath a beaded bracelet. “You should be terrified.” I’m scared for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t lose you for good. I swallow the rest.
She shakes her head. “Why do you even care? You’re the one who threw me out of the shed.”
“So you’d leave!” I scream. “To protect you, you idiot!”
She throws up her hands. “You don’t need to protect me!”
“Of course I do.” How can I not?
“Why?!” she yells back.
“Because you’re mine!” Those words just come out from my core, unearthed from somewhere deep.
Zoey’s face fractures.
I try to redirect. “You’re my responsibility,” I clarify. “You always have been.” Since the day I met Zoey in high school and she bowed at my feet, I took that on myself.
I fell for her headfirst, and I’ve been falling ever since. Even now, when I’ve spent months lifeless and cold, I hang onto the rage that grows because it’s something. Anything. Other than the numbness and empty hollow I’ve been suffering inside.
How I can feel anything at all is beyond me—but I’m not surprised Zoey is the one burning that ember in my emptied soul.
Her eyes flit across my features. “I don’t need you to protect me anymore. I don’t need to be your responsibility. I free you from that, October.”
No…please don’t.
Tears threaten to rise, and I battle them away. “You’re going to leave.” I yank her T-shirt back and she fights me for it in a tug of war.
“Or what?” Zoey challenges with a jerk of her shirt.
I tug back. “Or I’ll make you.”
Her eyes connect with mine in a heady beat. Something deeper swims between us, and in a sexy, low whisper, she breathes, “I dare you to try.”
My hand flies to her neck on instinct. I grab her by the throat and push her against the wall. Emotions bubble between us, and my heartbeat drops low, thumping against my heat.
A moan catches against her lips as I squeeze the tender flesh against her neck. Her blond hair is wild around her freckled cheeks. Mine is neat around my face. I’m in control.
I’m in control.
Only like always, like from the history of us, she compels me just as I compel her—and we’re in a state of undying longing. An unrest I foolishly want to live inside.
Headiness and arousal start to pass from her to me. We’re also in a stalemate in this position. My body flush against hers. Her body pinned to the wall.
“Leave,” I seethe between clenched teeth.
Zoey’s eyes are only on my lips. “Is this supposed to make me want to leave, Kenobi?” she whispers, her wiseass smile melded with burning desire. “Because it’s doing the opposite.”
Arousal swims low in my belly, descending. Ugh! I want to leave her. I want to kiss her. I want to keep her safe. I want to be with her.
I have no idea who she’s been with—she has no idea about my past. Rule #2: Never talk about relationships. But my brain and body are screaming in so much want.
I want her.
She’s right though, crossing this line will only fuse us further together. Make her want to stay. Make me want to grip her tight.
Let her go.
My fingers twitch on her neck. I can’t loosen my grip around her throat. I can’t back away. I haven’t felt anger or arousal or anything in months, and it’s intoxicating to be here right now.
