Suddenly, I want to drag his lips between my teeth just to watch his eyes darken with heat. Then, I'll be the one to leave him in pain.
I'm such a liar.
Stay focused.
I blurt out, "Why are you here?"
His smile grows. He claims, "We didn't finish our last conversation."
I tilt my head, trying to figure out what he's saying.
He leans closer, and the scent I scrubbed off in the shower penetrates me deeper. His breath hits my ear, and he murmurs, "When you figure something out, your face twitches."
I turn toward him, inches from his mouth, denying, "No, it doesn't."
"It does. You just figured something out about Jagger. Admit it."
I bite my lip.
His face falls, and so does his voice. He sternly orders, "Let's go into your room and talk, Willow."
A buzz flutters in my stomach, weightless with need and heavy with anticipation. My voice cracks. "No."
"Then let's go to mine," he says, then slides his arm around my waist and moves me down the hall.
"Wy—"
He puts his hand over my mouth. Then his lips brush against my ear. "We have to talk, sugar. Now, decide if you want your family to know about us or not."
Us?
I glare daggers at him, the blades sharper than before, while an entire sky of butterflies breaks open inside me.
He waits a moment, breathing hard and pinning me with a challenging stare, as if I'm a hand of poker there's no doubt he'll win.
Me.
My body.
My entire goddamn soul.
The longer he studies me, the bigger the urge to slap him and then kiss him until morning grows.
He finally lowers his hand, steers me past several more rooms, then opens the door to the bedroom adjacent to mine.
I step inside and turn to face him. He shuts the door, planting his body against it and flicking the lock.
"What are you doing?" I fret. I try to maintain that I'm in control, but I'm nothing of the sort. I've never been the one with the power when it comes to him. Wyatt's always had it and still does.
He steps toward me, and I back up until my knees hit the mattress, and I plop on the bed. He sits next to me and grabs my hand.
I yank it back, warning, "Don't touch me."
Something flashes in his eyes.
It takes me a minute to realize it's guilt. My insides quiver, and I close my eyes, begging, "Please. Whatever you want to say, get it over with so I can go."
"I shouldn't have made the choices I made."
