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Pulling in a steadying breath, I slowly lower myself from the stool and allow my feet to take measured steps across the room. When I reach him, I hesitate for a long moment before wrapping my hand around his wrist. He tilts his head, watching me curiously. “We need to talk.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Fallonkeepsherfingerswrapped around my wrist all the way outside and to her car. She pulls her keys from her pocket, unlocking it before pulling on the handle. I’m intrigued enough to let her take control, at least for now.
My lips quirk into a smirk when she hops into the driver seat, turning the engine on. She stares at me impatiently, waiting for me to follow. I take slow measured steps around the Range Rover, all the while she holds my gaze, frustration falling off her in waves.
She doesn’t speak when I climb in, or when she pulls away from the kerb and starts down the road. Now that we’re alone, she looks anxious. A far cry from the girl who stomped over to me and demanded that we talk. She strangles the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white under the harsh grip.
The drive takes half an hour, and it’s only when we turn down a small side road a few miles away from the university that my brain registers where she’s taking me. The cottage comes into view, standing alone on an empty road. She lets the car roll to a stop.
“Do you have the keys?”
Nodding, I pull the keychain out of my pocket, handing it over to her. She snatches them from me before jumping out of the car and rushing up the little pathway. When she unlocks the door, she pushes the handle down before turning to face me.
I don’t move, not yet. She huffs, spinning on her heel and stomping inside. There’s nothing like getting under her skin. I might have come with her willingly, but she doesn’t get to have the upper hand.
I wait another minute, blowing out a slow breath before stepping out and following her path into the cottage. The lights are on in the hallway, guiding me to the kitchen where she sits on the marble island, her feet swinging back and forth while she sips from a beer.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” I mumble under my breath, grabbing a beer of my own from the small fridge and leaning against the doorframe. She doesn’t respond, just swallows her drink quietly while her gaze moves across the room.
Her eyes linger on a wall of photos opposite.
“How are they?” she asks, staring at the photo of my parents that takes centre stage. The cottage is theirs. A gift to my mum from when they studied at the academy. She fell in love with this place when they stumbled upon it one day, and my father being the soppy shit he is spent a pretty penny and made sure she got to call it hers.
“Good. Though I’m not sure we’re here to talk about my parents.”
“I used to love this place, you know,” she tells me, a ghost of a smile passing over her lips before she turns a blank face to mine. “We had the best summers here as kids, didn’t we?”
“Did we?”
Her gaze falls to the floor, her eyes shining with sorrow while she twists her hands awkwardly in her lap. “What happened to us, Teddy?”
There it is.
The elephant in the room. I shrug but offer her no explanations. I don’t particularly care to dredge up a past I can’t talk about. She sighs, her shoulders deflating in disappointment.
“I want to be friends again,” she finally says after a terse moment, lifting her eyes to mine. Her face is blank, but the words are laced with hope.
There’s nothing more dangerous to a person than having hope.
Cocking my head, I push off the fridge and walk towards her. Her eyes widen slightly when I move between her legs, spreading her thighs with my knees.
My hands press against the island, one on either side of her. I lean forward, bringing our faces together. Barely an inch of space remains between our lips.
She tenses, her eyes locking on mine. Heat fans her face at our closeness, the colour a beautiful flush pink on her skin.
“I don’t want to be your friend, Casper,” I tell her, watching the way her eyes dim. Her tongue slips out, running along her bottom lip, and my gaze drops, following the movement. My dick twitches, as I remember what that tongue feels like swiping along my length.
“What do you want, then?”
“I don’t think you’re ready to hear my answer.” My mouth quirks up, a smirk spreading at the corners of my lips. “When you are, then we’ll talk. Until then, you can kindly fuck off.”
Her lips turn down and she pushes her hands against my chest, trying to shove me away, but instead of moving, I hook an arm around her back, pulling her into my chest and lifting her from the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctually when I spin on my heels, carrying her until her back is slammed against the wall.
The hand not holding her slides up to her throat. Her mouth opens on a silent gasp, but I close my fingers, squeezing until her lungs fail her. “Don’t place your hands on me, Casper. Not unless you’re willing to see it through. Are you?”
I loosen my hold, dropping my hand to my side. Her chest expands as she greedily pulls in oxygen. I should walk away from her now. This shit is getting too fucking deep.
