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That’s all it takes for a wave of anger to crash over me. I suck in a deep breath, welcoming the blaze of fury that stomps out the attraction that sizzles in the charged air.
I plant my fists on my hips and growl, “How so?”
“We’re stepsiblings.”
“No, we aren’t. Our parents are no longer married.” The last part is tacked on because I know it’ll burrow under his skin and piss him off. And right now, that’s all the artillery I have in my arsenal. “Now, your dad? He’s still my family.”
His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking a mad rhythm as he grits his teeth. “But I’m not?” There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence as he searches my eyes. For a second, I wonder if I’ve actually inflicted pain. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Guilt reluctantly blooms inside my chest.
When I fail to respond, he advances, invading my personal space and sending my senses into a tailspin. Even though I’m tall at five foot nine, it becomes necessary to tilt my chin in order to hold his steady gaze. In the velvety darkness that blankets us, I’m in danger of drowning in his golden depths.
Why him?
Why is he the one guy who has set up residence inside my brain, refusing to be evicted?
It’s frustrating. Especially when I’d prefer to feel absolutely nothing where Ford Hamilton is concerned. As much as I want to turn tail and run, I refuse to back away. Instead, I hold my ground.
Not to mention, my breath.
“Answer the question.” His voice is deceptively calm. “I’m not family?”
I glance away, focusing on the small pockets of people toking up in the yard. The skunky scent of weed hangs heavy in the chilled air.
“Carina?” he snaps.
It’s only when all of my chaotic emotions have been locked down tight that I force my gaze back to his. “No, we’re not.”
Hurt flickers in his eyes before it’s shuttered away behind a smirking mask of indifference. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not that easy to shake loose.”
Isn’t that the truth.
It would be so much easier if he were.
Everywhere I go, there he is. The guy is like an incurable STI.
A nasty, pustulous one that oozes.
Unable to stand another second of our close proximity, I take a step in retreat. Just as I’m about to take another, his hands shoot out, locking around my upper arms before dragging me forward and crushing me against the steely strength of his chest.
Air gets clogged at the back of my throat as I stare up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “What are you doing?”
Once upon a time, I allowed Ford to touch me whenever he wanted.
I reveled in the feel of his hands.
That’s no longer the case.
As much as he enjoys provoking me, he normally keeps his hands to himself.
His heated gaze drops to my lips. “I’m not sure.”
The confusion lacing his voice is enough to make my heart stall. Just when it feels as if I’ll expire from lack of oxygen, it’s jumpstarted before beating a painful tattoo against my ribcage.
For years, I’ve worked hard to shut down my emotions where he’s concerned. The last thing I need is for him to break through the walls I’ve erected to keep him firmly at bay. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow him to destroy the little bit of self-preservation I have. It’s the only thing that allows me to sleep peacefully at night.
In a surprise twist I didn’t see coming, he whispers, “Truth or dare.”
