“I want you,” I whispered to them.
A pair of older women passing by gave me a strange look. Whatever. Let them judge. Shoes were a religion and I worshipped devotedly.
I reached for the door handle but a warm hand landed over mine. Heat shot straight through my palm.
Oh no.
Not him.
I froze. Completely. My stomach filled with nerves as I looked. He was standing close enough that if I inhaled too sharply, I’d be breathing him in, and I absolutely did not need that.
A soft smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I croaked.
His gaze dipped, amused, as if he was checking to see if I’d run.
“I wasn’t sure you remembered me,”
Remember him? I had spent six consecutive nights dreaming about his arms around me and waking up furious at myself for it.
“I, uh—” I pushed hair behind my ear. “Yes. Of course. I remember you.”
Humiliation flooded me. I had curled into him. Buried my face in his throat and whimpered. Then kissed his chest. Fantastic. Perfect. Let’s never revisit that again.
“I wanted to check on you,” he said softly. “You disappeared right after your team took you.”
“I didn’t disappear. I went to Ashwood.”
His brows lifted slightly. “For three weeks?”
“…It’s restful.”
“It’s a forest.”
I lifted my shoulders. “Trees are calming.”
“I thought I scared you off.”
My breath hitched. “What? No. Not even—well—maybe a little. But that was adrenaline, not you.”
“Good to know.”
He still hadn’t removed his hand from mine on the door handle.
“You look… better,” he looked me up and down.
“You look shirted,” I said.
He blinked.
I blinked.
Great. Amazing start.
I cleared my throat. “I meant—you’re wearing a shirt. Unlike last time.”
A slow grin curved his lips. “Unlike last time.”
