I nod and step out, shutting the door softly behind me. Leaning against the door, I squeeze my eyes shut, my lungs burning like I’ve run a damn marathon. Every muscle in me is pulled tight, ready to snap. I shouldn’t be picturing her stripping in there. I shouldn’t be aching to storm back in, pin her to the wall and worship her.
But I’m. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. Not even when she’s right here, close enough to touch, yet still a thousand miles away.
Also, I know I’ll spend the rest of the night torturing myself with how easy it would’ve been to close that inch between us if I hadn’t been such a goddamn asshole in the first place.
Chapter 9
Anna
‘What the hell am I doing?’I whisper to my reflection as I take in Landon’s black T-shirt hanging on me. It’s long enough to brush my knees and decent enough to skip the shorts that keep slipping down. But it’s not just seeing myself in his clothes that has my hands trembling. It’s his scent that keeps curling into my lungs, burning through my veins, and dragging me back to a place I swore I’d never return to.
I bite down on my lip and keep staring into the mirror, my fingers locking tight around the sink’s edge. This is a bad idea. Every nerve in me knows that this reckless step won’t bring closure or heal even a single wound. It’ll only make everything murkier, the kind that is impossible to see through.
No, I can’t just throw myself into bed with the man who shattered my world to pieces.
I drag in a shaky breath, fighting through the fog clouding my head and making every bit of my resolve weak.Focus, Anna. Focus.I need to keep my guard up. I need to remember why I’m here… why I agreed to step into his house in the first place.
To get answers.
To finally know why he walked away without so much as a word. That’s it.
Get the truth, claim my peace, and get the hell out before he burns me down all over again.
Picking up the hairbrush, I drag it through my hair and force my legs to move. But as I head for the door, every part of me begs to stay put, to stay locked in the room rather than risk doing something I’ll regret in daylight.
Still, I swallow the anxiety clawing up my throat and tighten my grip on the doorknob before twisting it open and stepping into the hall.
The moment I step into the hallway, a sound from the kitchen slams into me, making me aware he’s there. I stop dead, my pulse hammering, my breath razor-thin.
‘Keep it together, Anna. You’ve got this,’ I tell myself as I head toward the kitchen, but my stride falters the moment my gaze snags on Landon.
He’s standing at the microwave, his back to me, but he’s shirtless. He’s only wearing his track pants, slung low on his hips, and suddenly my brain short-circuits. My hormones spark like static at the sight of his sexy body. I gulp, rooted to the spot like a fool, unable to tear my eyes away. The warm lamplight glazes over his skin, catching every shift of muscle as he pulls a container from the oven.
It’s honestly unfair, the way he does this to me, stealing every coherent thought I have.God, I can’t do this.
“What happened? Why are you standing there like a statue?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder with that unmistakable grin.
That fucking dangerous grin of his. The one that used to be the prelude to every bad decision I ever made with him. And before I can stop myself, the words tumble out of my mouth.
“There is no sex.”
His brow arches, as if I’ve just said something wildly entertaining.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to jump into bed with me, nor was I planning on seducing you into changing your mind,” he clarifies, turning to set the container on the counter.
“It’d be more convincing if you had clothes on,” I shoot back, folding my arms across my chest, my voice carrying the kind of determination that swears I won’t fall again. But my gaze clearly didn’t get that memo. It betrays me and invariably drifts downward before I even realize it.Damn it. I’ve already seen him shirtless, even naked, so why the hell are my hormones acting like this is the first time?
“If you’re not comfortable, I can put on my shirt.”
I shake my head. “No… yes… God, I’m being ridiculous. We’ve seen each other naked. It’s not—” I bite back the rest of the words before I humiliate myself further. My throat works as I force the next words out. “Please, just… put something on. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
His lips twitch, like he’s holding back a comment, but he only nods. He walks to the stool by the small dining table in the center of the kitchen, snatches up his shirt, and pulls it over his head.
“Okay now?” he asks as if this is some kind of a negotiation.
I nod, and only then do my lungs remember how to work.
The next few minutes slip by in loaded silence. We move around each other carefully, setting food on the table, passing plates, and trading occasional glances that burn hotter than they should. But neither of us says a word.
