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I watch him put a stern finger over his lips, covering a hint of a smile that just incenses me even more.
“Jesus Christ. How long were you standing there watching me?” I demand.
An evil smile pulls at his lips. “Not nearly long enough.”
Yep, he’s going to get me arrested.
I want tomurderhim for ambushing me like this and peeping in on my room. Never mind risking his literal neck to come over here.
Instead, I stomp over to the door and pull the screen shut, shaking my head.
When I turn to face him again, he’s sitting on the edge of my bed with a look like he belongs there. “I had to talk to you after what happened at dinner tonight. Come have a seat,sis.”
His big hand pats the empty spot next to him.
I pinch my jaw shut, feeling this strange heady rush of heat as that last word replays in my head.
Issisjust supposed to piss me off more? Or remind me there’s something broken in my brain?
Either way, mission accomplished.
I hate the fact that we’re stepsiblings now doesn’t stop me from wanting to climb him like the huge tree of a man he is.
No. That fire in my veins isn’t just anger for him being Mr. Prick incarnate.
It’s for what we lost.
What I thought we had last night.
This bizarre, hypocritical hole in my heart widens. All because I can’t feel this asshat’s mouth smothering mine ever again.
“Delia? You look disturbed,” he points out.
Oh, darling step-dickhead, you have no earthly idea.
This isn’t me and that’s what scares me the most.
I’ve always been the good girl, Miss Levelheaded, themagna cum laudecareer track girl boss in the making.
Hard muscles, barbed ink, and a world-class ego never did anything for me, but here I am.
Staring at this insanely hot weirdo and trying to convince myself he’s as repulsive as his words.
And hereheis, lying in my bed, doing—what, exactly?
I sink down next to him reluctantly, careful to leave an arm’s gap between us.
“What’s there to talk about?” I ask with a sigh that feels like breathing lead. “We can’t change anything, you know. Yeah, we screwed up big-time last night, and I guess it’s just going to be hella awkward from now on. If I’d known you werethatChristopher... I’d have told you to pack up your diving gear and go.”
“Ah, fuck.” He sits up straighter, a smirk I can’t decipher on his lips. “If you keep giving me that Christopher shit, it’s going to be more awkward. Call me Chris. Ma just uses the formal shit to make me sound like another accessory.”
“So, is that why you came swinging in, Tarzan? To talk about your mommy issues?”
Oops.
The way his eyes darken and that smirk disappears makes me regret my words instantly.
Then he locks eyes and says, “I’m here as a courtesy, smartass. Mainly because I can’t stop thinking about how sweet your little clit burned last night when you came on my hand.”
