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She slams the door and marches toward me, probably for a spoon in the drawer I’m blocking.
“I don’t see how me being an ass five years ago means you have to hook up with one now,” I say.
“AndIdon’tsee how this is any of your business,” she hisses, crossing her arms.
She glares up at me, waiting for me to move.
I brace firmer in place, challenging her with a direct stare. Grunting, she pushes into my side to reach behind me, but I don’t budge. Not to be deterred, the stubborn woman cements further against me, forcing me into the cabinets with the force of her chest and hips. She must notice my body’s instant reaction when her cheeks flame with more than anger.
And she doesn’t back away. No, instead she taunts me by pressing her hips further into my groin, as if seeking more evidence of what’s so painfully obvious.
Yes, I want you. Maybe as much as you want me.
My pulse pounds with each labored breath, and I grip the counter behind me. She sinks against my erection, and I hiss in air as she grazes me with deliberate pressure. Over and over she plays, until my entire body is hard and burning for her.
By the look in her eyes, she knows exactly what she’s doing. This is punishment. I don’t even know for which of my many sins.
“It’s my business because you’re my roommate and it happened in my presence,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “If I see it, it’s my fucking business.”
Her gaze collides with mine, flashing with fire. Old and new. Seconds, minutes, years of unresolved tension born as much from passion as hatred blazes between us. Time has stirred our complex history into a dangerous, brewing storm.
My blood surges hot as she searches my face with open lust, her body still fused to mine in an invitation we both know I’m not allowed to accept. How many times have I fantasized about this moment? Imagined her hands on me. Mine on her. Clothes flying, breathing heavy and strained in desperation to alleviate an insatiable hunger.
Before I can react, her fingertips sink into the tense muscle of my lower abs. She pushes down even further, triggering a rush of heat as she explores before curving around my side in a bold claim. She yanks us closer and moves in slow deep pulses that ignite a raw ache throughout my entire body. It’s pure torture.
“Isabel,” I rasp out when she drops the yogurt on the counter so her other hand can join the fun. If we didn’t have clothes on right now…
“What?” she asks innocently.
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what? I’m just getting a spoon.”
“No, you’re playing with me.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I exhale.
Shit, I don’t even care that she’s tormenting me. It feels so good, but just when I’m ready to combust, her flames cool into ice.
“So anything we see is fair game?” she asks, stepping back.
It feels cold without her against me, and anger courses through me at her cruelty. She has to know what her mini seduction would do to me after all this time. I’ll be hurting tonight.
I shrug and stuff my fingers in the waistband of my pants at my sides. I push them lower for revenge and feel some satisfaction at her quick inhale. She scans every inch of newly exposed skin—the small tattoo on my hip, the sharp V descending past a weak drawstring that’s barely hiding what she so clearly wants.
Covetous. That’s the blaze in her eyes right now. Pure lust.
It doesn’t matter when she seems to shake it off and settle back into resentment.
“Okay,” she says with a smug look. “Then how’d you get those scars on your back Isawlast night.”
My blood goes cold.
Darkness ruptures into the room, clouding my vision and filling my lungs with thick air. I blink back at her, digging for words,anythingto stop the sudden onslaught of invisible violence. Her expression changes the longer she studies me, softening in a way that would have come as a relief just a minute ago. Now? God, I can’t breathe.
I close my eyes and struggle to pull in a torn breath before straightening from the counter.
“Sorry, you’re right,” I mutter, turning back to my plate. “It’s none of my business.”
“Tristan…”
Her voice is soft, as soft as her touch when it lands on my arm. A tingle rushes over my skin, but I can’t right now. I can’tever.
I shrug out of her grip and swipe a fork and spoon from the drawer. After handing her the spoon, I stalk past her to the living room to pretend I’ll actually be able to eat.
