Needing.
Screaming inside.
Then he walks out the door, leaving my body humming and my thoughts in chaos.
I close the door and lean against it, pressing my palms to my heated cheeks. What am I doing? What am I even considering? Dating Declan for a month is possibly the worst idea of my lifetime.
But I want him to kiss me senseless.
It's just one month, and then, there'll be no strings attached,the tormented desire in me whispers.
I'm still standing there, trying to convince myself that this is the most reckless thing I can do after living a life full of carefully calculated decisions, when there's a knock on the door.
Opening the door, I see Marcus standing there, his expression thunderous.
"We need to talk."
"We can talk now."
I cross my arms, not moving from the doorway.
"Inside. Now."
The warning in his voice makes me step aside. He stalks into my apartment, turning on me the moment the door closes.
"What was Declan doing here?"
My stomach drops. "Are you stalking me now?"
"I came to check on you and saw his car leaving." His dark eyes burn with protective fury. "The playboy I explicitly warned you about was in your apartment alone. Want to explain that?"
"You were checking on me?" Cold anger begins to form in my belly. "Since when do you check on me?"
"Since you started making questionable decisions."
I snort. "You mean like having a friend over and living my life?"
"Declan is not your friend."
"And you would know because?"
"Because I know him! I've been his teammate for five years, and I've seen how he treats women."
"I'm not interested in hearing this."
"Too bad because you're going to listen," he says, voice rising. "He dates models, actresses, anyone beautiful and available. The second he's bored, he moves on."
"That's not..."
"It's exactly who he is! And I'll be damned if I let him do that to my sister."
"Your sister, whom you never check on." I glare, placing one hand on my hip. "Who you never ask about her research or her life, but the second a man shows interest, you suddenly care?"
He recoils like I've slapped him. "That's not fair."
"When was the last time you asked about my work, Marcus? When was the last time Mom and Dad called to congratulate me on a publication instead of asking about your latest game?" My voice cracks, years of resentment pouring out. "You join them in interrupting whenever I start trying to discuss my work during dinner. And you've never acknowledged that I've accomplished anything worth celebrating."
"I'm trying to protect you."
