My lips twitch. “Of course not.” I drag the ottoman closer and drop onto it, lifting her foot onto my lap like it belongs there. “Merely a lucky guess.”
“Yeah, okay.” She crosses her arms. “You’re not even trying to lie well anymore.”
“I’m losing my touch, it seems.” My gaze sinks deeper into hers, my thumb grazing over the bruised curve of her heel. “Must be your effect on me.”
“I can’t wait until we’re done with whatever the hell this is,” she mutters, shifting like she’s about to yank her foot back, but she doesn’t.
“You make it sound like you’re not enjoying yourself.” I grin. “I’m almost offended.”
“That is…ifyou had feelings.”
“Oof.” I clutch my chest. “The cruelty. Truly. You wound me.”
She shoots me a glare hot enough to scorch flesh, and I want to chase the fire.
“Now, if you’re done with your dramatics, I need you to change so I can clean your feet before you die of an infection.”
“How noble,” she drawls, dry as dust. “Isn’t that what you want? To watch me die?”
The smile instantly vanishes from my mouth.
No.
The thought hits harder than it should. Her body cold, breathless… It cracks something in my chest.
I don’t want her dead. I just want to leave her on the ground gasping for air, knowing I’m the one who took it away.
“I said change, Fiona.” My gaze cuts to hers. “Before I strip those clothes myself. Then again…” I tilt my head, eyes trailing down her body. “Considering how you moaned for my cock just minutes ago, I’m guessing that is exactly what you want.”
Her jaw clenches, nostrils flaming. “Look away, asshole.”
“Say please.”
She launches a pillow at my head, and I catch it midair, grinning like the bastard she knows I am. I turn, though not before imagining all the ways I’ll get to know her body all over again before the week is over.
I listen to her movements, each rustle of fabric feeding my sickness. She’s taking her sweet time, knowing exactly what she’s doing. Letting me stew in it. Letting me remember how she looked. Flushed, panting. How she begged with her body even as her mouth spat venom.
It’s not just hate between us. It’s combustion. And I’m a fucking arsonist.
“Okay,” she says from behind me. “I’m decent.”
I glance over my shoulder. “I could’ve flown to Moscow and back in the time it took you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do us all a favor and make it a one-way ticket.”
I pivot fully, stepping into her space. My knuckles brush her cheek, and her lashes flutter.
“Just admit it…you’d miss me.”
“Yeah, as much as a cavity.”
I chuckle, but it dies fast.
Because she’s right. It would be smarter to leave. To forget this madness. To burn every trace of her from my life and pretend she never happened.
But the second I try…something in me snaps.
I can’t kill what she makes me feel. The obsession. The rage. The way my blood sings with the urge to destroy anything that touches her, that makes her feel something I didn’t give her first.
