Those things don’t affect my world. Cheating mothers and shouting fathers and scared siblings…they do. But drug dealers and enemies and threats on my doorstep?
I twist my fingers in Dax’s hair, my arm around his neck, and I think the person at the door has probably wandered off by now. I start to tell him that no, I don’t need to get it, and he needs to fuck me instead, but when I part my lips, the knock sounds again and this time it’s louder and far more aggressive.
Dax actually flinches and for some reason, it annoys me. I roll my eyes and push off him, then I stroll across the open plan living room in bare feet. I rake my hair out of my face but don’t bother adjusting my skirt or my top. I highly doubt it’s someone here to kill me and I’m fully intending on telling whoever it is to fuck off, but I do have some measure of healthy fear and I glance into the peep hole before I open the door.
My breath catches in my throat and I jerk back, like Storm struck me, even though there’s still a closed and locked door between us.
But not for long, because he must hear me on the other side of it, the way he says quietly, “Open the goddamn door or I’m going to break it down, Sloane.”
“Everything okay?” Dax calls out, but he hasn’t gotten himself up off the couch and just like the flinch when Storm knocked the second time, it bothers me.
I take a breath, close my eyes one second, then flip the lock and open up the door.
The scent of nicotine and leather hits my nose, and I don’t smoke and I don’t really like being around it, but on Storm it’s weirdly hot.
Or maybe that’s just the fact he’s staring down at me with narrowed, red-lined eyes, his jawline defined, an expensive-looking navy blue bomber jacket and black sweats on and his pouty mouth is turned down in a scowl and yeah, he looks fine as hell.
Fuck.
I fold my arms over my chest and keep the door propped open with my shoulder as I hold his gaze. But only for a second before he looks me over and I see the vein in his neck pulse under his skin.
When he meets my eye again, his nostrils flare. “Tell him to get out.” He doesn’t lower his voice to say the words.
I lift my chin. “Make me.” I enunciate both words carefully and I don’t back down. He can’t show up at my apartment and make demands and expect I’m going to jump through hoops to follow them.
Even if I do feel safer with him right here.
He smiles and that’s worse than his visible anger. “You don’t want me to do that, Princess.”
I roll my eyes at the pet name. “You don’t know anything about what I want.”
He inhales deep, his gaze dropping to my bunched up skirt. I’m not quite flashing him, but half an inch more and I would be. He runs his tongue over his top teeth, making his lip push out for a heartbeat and I want to bite him. “Let me find out, then.” He stares at me again.
My pulse races under my skin and I’d let him fuck me right here against this door, but I hear Dax’s footsteps coming closer and I know that’s not going to happen.
Not yet.
“I think you need to leave, bro.” Dax stands at my back like a coward and I’m ready to throw his ass out myself but I don’t think I’ll need to.
Storm looks at him.
And he just stares.
And stares.
No one speaks, but it seems like we’re all waiting on Storm to say something as the cool October wind breezes through my apartment and I shiver, hugging myself tighter.
At least… I tell myself it’s because of the fall air.
“You think so, huh?” Storms finally asks, his voice soft.
Dax says, “Yeah, I do,” with the confidence of someone who thinks they’ve gotten what they want, but only because he’s obviously not thinking clearly.
I remember what Tyli said, about how I could do better, but I could do worse. The thing is I’ve never settled for anything but the best, and that’s definitely not Dax.
Storm nods once, like he’s going to go, but I know him better than that.
Dax doesn’t.
