Cool night air seeps through the glass. I press my palm against it, trying to breathe. Trying to stitch myself back together before anyone notices the cracks.
But of course, he noticed.
And he followed.
The measured and predatory footsteps are unmistakable. Colter doesn’t rush. He doesn’t have to.
“Running off?” His voice is low; silk wrapped around steel.
I don’t turn. “Needed air.”
The warmth of him approaches, close enough that I feel the charge of his presence before his reflection darkens the glass beside me. His hand comes down on the window frame above my head, caging me without touching.
“You think you can walk out of a room like that,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting my temple, “and I won’t follow?”
My chest heaves, the panic I’ve been swallowing mixing with something hotter, more dangerous. “Maybe I wanted space.”
His other hand finds my hip, thumb pressing into fabric. “You can have space. With me at your side.”
I hate that my pulse stutters, that my body betrays me under his nearness. But worse, much worse, I hate that part of me craves the leash he holds, even as every instinct screams fight it. Colter’s grip tightens at my hip, the press of his thumb sending shivers I loathe myself for. His reflection beside mine is sharp. Jaw set, eyes dark and consuming. I feel the air thicken between us, my body taut, strung too tight to move.
And then?—
“Oh!”
Her voice is too bright, too sugary sweet, echoing down the corridor before I even turn my head.
Melanie.
The sound of her heels clicks closer, each step dripping with practiced confidence. “There you are,” she says, like she’s stumbled upon something innocent instead of walking straight into a live wire.
Colter doesn’t move away. Not an in inch. His hand still brands my hip; his arm still cages me against the window. If anything, his jaw flexes harder, his body coiling tighter, as though Melanie’s present isn’t a disruption but a provocation.
I force myself to twist and slip out from the trap of his body before I combust in the heat of his stare. My pulse thunders, my lungs scraping for air as I step back far enough to reclaim space that feels like mine.
Melanie slows when she sees me, her painted lips curving into a smile too sharp to be friendly. Her eyes flick from me to Colter, lingering on the distance I’ve barely managed to wedge between us.
And she knows. God, she knows.
“There you are,” she repeats, softer this time, but the syrup in her tone has a bitter aftertaste. “I was beginning to think you disappeared on me.” She shifts, deliberately sliding her arm through Colter’s, pressing herself against his side like she belongs there.
The sight of it is a blade to my ribs and I can’t understand why.
We barely know each other. But then—the moments we have shared have been meaningful. Intimate.
Colter’s gaze doesn’t leave me, not even as Melanie leans into him. He doesn’t soften, doesn’t smile for her. His hand stays exactly where it was, on my hip. Possession in its rawest form.
Melanie notices. Her lashes flutter, but her smile doesn’t falter. “Oh,” she says lightly, tilting her head at me. “I didn’t realize you two were…talking.”
My chest burns with the effort not to snap back, not to spill the acid bubbling in my throat.Talking.Is that what she calls this?
“I was leaving,” I manage, my voice cool enough to disguise the inferno inside me.
Colters fingers tighten. Not enough to stop me this time, but enough to remind me that if he really wanted, I wouldn’t get far. His eyes lock with min, dark, unyielding, making promises and threats all in the same look.
And then he does the worst thing possible.
He lets me go.
