Colt folds his arms, his voice dripping with hostility. "Didn't realize you were already making yourself comfortable."
"Didn't realize you still had anything to say that mattered," Wyatt replies smoothly, his voice calm but razor-sharp.
I step in quickly. "Don't."
The tension between the three of them sits on the edge of exploding.
No one moves. The testosterone saturates the air as thick as smog.
Jericho shifts, his eyes never leaving Wyatt's. "Just remember, Houston. Some of us earned our place here without needing second chances."
Wyatt's smirk sharpens, dark and unapologetic. "And yet here I am, still standing."
"Enough!" My voice cuts through like a whip. "All of you, except Wyatt, out!"
Jericho and Colt finally move, both shooting Wyatt one last glare before brushing past him.
As they exit, Wyatt doesn't move an inch. "Always a pleasure," he drawls, voice laced with venom.
The door slams, distilling their tension and creating a new one.
And the tension between us is even thicker. Too many minutes pass of Wyatt dragging his gaze over my body.
"You enjoy poking bears, don't you?" I say dryly.
Wyatt shrugs. "Just making conversation."
I sigh internally.
I'm cursed. Every time I think I'm prepared to face him, he chips away at my defenses, utilizing that Wyatt Houston charm, and catching me off guard again.
His gaze slides over me again, like a slow caress, lingering on every curve.
It's like nothing's changed, and my body still belongs to him.
It doesn't,I tell myself.
"You're staring," I force out, trying to steady my breath.
"Hard not to," he replies in a rich and dangerous drawl.
"Don't start," I warn.
He steps closer. "It's been years, Willow. You expect me not to notice every damn inch of you?"
My heart trips. I take a step backward, but I keep my chin high. "We're here for business."
He murmurs, "Business. Right. But don't pretend there's nothing left between us."
I clear my throat and gesture toward the chairs. "Two sponsor meetings today. Sit."
He stretches his long legs as he takes a seat, looking entirely too comfortable. He could own the place, and it's something I used to love about him.
Today, it really irritates me.
His gaze drops to my crossed legs, his stare practically scorching my skin. My breath catches and my pulse shoots higher.
My body suddenly remembers every wicked thing he's done to it. It betrays me the same way it used to when we were together.
