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I begin stripping out of my tank top, but a trickle of awareness darts up my spine and I turn around, clutching the material to my chest.
“Don’t stop on my account, little mouse.” Bexley pushes off the wall and stalks toward me.
“W-what are you doing here?” I swallow hard, aware that I’m half naked and he’s… well, his eyes are so dark with anger. Or maybe it’s lust.
A bolt of desire shoots through me.
“We need to talk.” He grabs my arm and yanks me over to my bed. “Sit.” He shoves me down, and my shirt slips from my fingers, fluttering to the ground. I move to snatch it up, but Bexley beats me to it.
“Really?” I sneer.
“You said you came to see me. Why?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I glance away, too affected by his presence, but Bexley grips my chin, yanking my face up to his.
“You were there, weren’t you?” He glares at me. “In the basement.”
“I—" My throat goes dry. He isn’t supposed to remember.
“You cleaned me up.”
“I tried,” I admit, the quiver in my voice betraying my attempt at confidence.
“What game are you playing?”
I let out an exasperated breath. “I’m not playing a game, Bexley. I’m as much a pawn as you.”
“But you’re his…”
I nod. He doesn’t let go of my chin, and I don’t want him to. Something crackles between us, the same thing I felt by the lake.
Bexley’s eyes drop to my lips, his tongue darting out and tasting his own as he runs his thumb over my skin. “Would he care, do you think? If I destroyed you… his precious prosapia.”
He spits the words like they’re acid in his mouth, and I flinch.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“But here we are anyway.” He releases me sharply, and I instantly feel cold at the loss of his touch. Bexley glances at the wall, running a hand down his face
“What happened at the lake—"
“Don’t.” He pins me with a hard look. “What happened at the lake was a mistake.”
On shaky legs, I stand, putting us almost chest to chest. I can feel the heat radiating from Bexley’s body, see the harsh rise and fall of his chest as he tries to hold onto his control.
“It wasn’t a mistake, Bexley. You felt it too,” I whisper. “I know you did.”
His hand snaps out and grabs the back of my neck, anchoring my face right in front of his. His eyes burn into mine, searing my very soul.
“You’re his… you think I want to dip my end where that fucker has been?”
“He hasn’t… I’m not…” I swallow desperately. “He can’t touch me. Not yet.”
“No?” That piques his interest. Bexley studies me for a second, time ticking by in a painfully slow fashion.
“So he hasn’t felt you here?” His hand drops from my neck and skims down my spine to the curve of my ass. He grabs a handful and squeezes.
“No,” I press my lips together, fighting the urge to moan. My heart is a runaway train in my chest as lust clouds my thoughts.
