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What?By some miracle, I manage not to school him on sitting down, taking it easy, being a prideful arsehole, and instead I force the answer, “I’m going to Cabi.”
“How did you get here?”
“Chloe…” I round him until I’m at his front, forcing him to meet my gaze by squaring my shoulders in a pointed display. “You’re bleeding through your tissues.” He’s a lot taller than me, so until he lowers his chin, it’s hard to see the damage, but the tissues stuffed in each nostril have blood spread through them like dye in a white shirt. The skin around his wounded eye is thickening, inflamed, and burgeoning over his lashes.
“I’ll take you home first.”
“No. Luca said—"
“Don’t start with me today, Woman,” he states through a bark and then growls at his own outburst. “Sorry. Just let me drive you the fuck home, okay?”
“I. Can. Cabi.”
“Christ,Woman.” He grabs my throat, and I gasp when he lifts me to my tippytoes by the column of my neck so that my lips share his air as he says, “That’s what I want to do, Kaya. I should have done it the other day, but I had to let someone else take you home or I wouldn’t have let you leave me that day.”
My heart swells. “Are you concussed?”
He laughs, but it’s dark, even though the amusement seems genuine. “No. I’m fucking tired, Kaya. And looking at you after that blackout, seeing you over me, smelling you, I’m fuckingthrobbing.”
He releases my throat but stays close. I replace his hand with mine, holding my throat, dazed by what he just did and also…
Dammit.
Hormones.
Fuck. Right. Off.
My heart is thumping like a kick bass, the skin on my neck feels cold without his palm, my toes and ears tingle, and all the circulation is channelled between my legs.
“Don’t touch me like that again,” I whisper weakly, needing to hear my voice protest his dominance while my body hums in its wake.
Despite my words, we are locked together with tangible waves of energy, my blood pumping to be closer to him. I lift my chin. He lowers his, his lips skating along mine, and I’m going to kiss him, bloody nose and all, then—
His phone buzzes.
We freeze, before looking down, the energy fizzling out, like a released balloon rocketed through the air. The opportunity disappears, but he doesn’t move, and I feel and hear his hard breath on my forehead.
When I take a small step backwards, I find enough sanity in that slither of space to part my lips and inhale deeply—freedom, freedom from his scent.
I like his sweat, too.
Feigning nonchalance, I look at my chipped teal nails, finding their condition just as nausea-inducing as my current thrashing heart. He pulls out his phone, not hiding the display from me, and I quietly watch him open a message that I read upside down and on the sly. A skill I acquired when I first discovered my dad was cheating on my mother with hussy number one.
Stacey:
Stay at the gym, Xander. Luca told me to drive you home. Don’t be a stubborn arse.
He texts back immediately, punching the screen with a vigour that goes unseen by her, but not by me, and I get a small tingle knowing he’s not leaping for her company.
Xander:
I don’t need a lift, Stace. I’m cool.
Stacey:
It’s me or he’ll send one of his men.
He curses and grips the phone with force, shaking his head through a curt laugh of derision, muttering, “Unbelievable.”
