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“It’s possible.” Ari crossed her arms over her chest. “But you know what they say. If you hear hoofbeats, it’s probably a horse, not a zebra. This can also be explained with a simple answer. Ex-wife is the stalker. He knows she’s trying to frame him, so he’s extra cautious.”
Sloane’s gaze was so cold, Ari was surprised icicles didn’t come shooting directly out of her retinas. “If you really buy that narrative,” she said, drawing up as if gaining another inch by sheer will just to tower over her, “then you’re the perfect girl for me.”
“Oh yeah?” Ari raised an eyebrow, losing feeling in her extremities as she stared unblinkingly into Sloane’s hazel eyes. “And why’s that?” She hated how her words were barely above a whisper.
Sloane’s eyes darted down to her lips before smirking. “I want to cross-examine you.”
Ari swallowed the lump in her throat and returned moisture to her mouth. “And without even buying me dinner first?”
Her throat danced as she laughed. “I’m so greedy, aren’t I?”
With the volley back in her direction, Ari smirked. Sloane always had an answer for everything.
“You know we used to work pretty well together,” Sloane said, her eyes searching as if willing Ari to remember old times.
“When?” Ari pressed, her heart hammering in time with the vein throbbing in Sloane’s neck. Every word as dangerous as trying to catch an angry rattle snake.
The tip of Sloane’s tongue peaked out between her full lips. “Remember Graves’ class? We worked together on that ridiculous project to write a research memo using only the books. No internet allowed.”
Ari’s body sti ened as she took a step back, breaking the intensity of Sloane’s proximity. “Yeah, until you hid the
book everyone needed to finish.”
Sloane’s grin only heightened Ari’s irritation. “It’s not my fault none of you thought to look in the copy machine,”
she replied, propping her elbow up on one of the boxes as she leaned against it. The picture of relaxed grace while Ari’s pulse throbbed in her temple.
“That’s what’s wrong with you,” Ari snapped, her old anger rushing back all at once. “You unilaterally change the rules and think it’s fair. That the rest of us are suckers for not finding our own loopholes. Some of us don’t need to cheat to win.”
Ari turned her back on Sloane, grabbed her bag, and made a beeline for the door. She couldn’t stand to spend another second in her presence.
“There’s some deep seeded shit in there,” Sloane said as Ari reached for the doorknob. “Is that when you stopped having a crush on me?”
Ari froze, unable to run despite the desperate desire to move. She sensed Sloane’s body behind her before she laid her hand flat against the door, right next to Ari’s head, and pushed the door closed again. Ari was trapped, staring at a chip in the doorframe. Peeking out from the glossy, white paint was a misshapen, peach-colored blob.
Who would paint a door peach?
“Or maybe,” Sloane continued, dragging Ari out of hyper-focus with her warm breath tickling the shell of her ear. “It was when you started glaring at me when first term grades posted, and I had the misfortune of ranking one spot above you. Is that when you stopped crushing on me?”
Ari spun around, unwilling to yield or cower. She straightened as Sloane dipped her head forward, making their eyes level while her lips hovered just inches away. An intentional provocation. A dare.
“I most definitely did not have a crush on you,” she declared with conviction, wishing she wasn’t lying.
Sloane’s arrogant smile was an a ront. The kind of insult that enraged Ari even as it tangled with the lust she’d never been able to vanquish no matter how hard she tried. “No?”
The heat from her gaze burned Ari’s skin as Sloane’s attention dropped to her lips and lower.
Every second Ari was caught between Sloane and the closed door was agony. Her chest was too tight. Her skin too hot. But it was the ache growing from her core like a vine wrapping its tendrils around her organs . . . squeezing her heart . . . obscuring her thoughts . . . that was the most painful.
“No,” Ari insisted, her voice nearly as lost as her will to resist the overpowering temptation of Sloane’s gravitational pull. “Who told you that?” she added, trying to sound o ended, but there was no conviction in her accusation.
Sloane dipped her chin, hovering just above Ari’s lips when her eyes snapped up to meet Ari’s gaze. The e ect was overwhelming.
I’m dreaming, she decided, letting reality slip away.
Sloane’s hand was warm as it slid up the back of Ari’s neck. In the wake of her touch, Ari’s eyes slipped closed. The sensation in her body, the sound of Sloane’s voice, the scent of her perfume, all worked in concert to pull her under.
Cutting o her sense of sight might be the only way Ari could wrestle back her self-control.
