“Don’t play dumb with me, Savannah.”
“Adrien?” She scoffs. “He was being friendly.”
“Friendly?” I laugh but it’s not fucking funny, “Hewasn’tbeing friendly, Savannah.”
Fuck, she feels so damn good under my hand, I want to slide it around to her ass, squeeze and drag her leg to the side. Hook it right over my hip, here and now, against the wall, hands trapped in mine.
“You’re not being very friendly right now either,” Her eyes flare as my hand twitches, sinking in a little deeper to her flesh. But then her words register, sink beneath my skin and drench whatever fire had been set inside of my soul.
I drop her, stepping away as quickly as I was on her.
“I’m not your friend,” I bite and the pain that crosses her face with those words, it’s crippling but I make for the door like it doesn’t affect me at all as I yank my cell from my pocket, “Get dressed, we’re leaving.”
She doesn’t argue as the door slams behind me.
I drop Savannah off at her friend’s house thirty minutes later, the entire car journey silent save for the tinny sound of the radio that was on such a low volume, you couldn’t hear what was being said or played. She kept her face toward the window, her hands in her lap right up until I come to a stop at the end of the driveway.
She climbs out without waiting for me to open herdoor for her, heading straight for the porch and I don’t stop her. I can’t.
I came close to breaking today. I showed her a part of me I never wanted her to see and almost let my desire for her take control. I’ll remember the way she felt for years to come, the way she was pressed to me, her flesh in my hands.
The forbidden fruit.
Just a taste is enough to lead you into an abyss you’llneverescape.
Chapter Nine
It’s been two days since he told me we weren’t friends, and the sting of his words hasn’t lessened with the time.
Filming wrapped up this morning and I’ve been here at Sloane’s since I left the studio. I have my head in my hand and a book on my lap, a blanket covering my legs when Sloane comes through the door, two cups of coffee in hand. She passes one to me and then collapses down onto the couch, disturbing the paperback that was resting on my knees until it falls off and closes on the page I was reading.
“You’re moping,” She points out, sipping from her cup, “Why?”
“I am not moping,” I huff, my finger picking at the corner of the book where the laminate has started to peel.
“Stop that,” Sloane slaps at my hand and steals the book, “You’ll ruin the cover. Now tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I lie.
“Bullshit,” She calls out immediately, “Known you a long time, Sav, you’re moping but I don’t know why and honestly, I’m a little offended you’re not telling me.”
It’s true. I tell her everything but there’s something about this that doesn’t quite feel real and if I say it out loud, it’ll make it true.
It shouldn’t even bother me the way it has. Killian is right, we aren’t friends and never have been. None of Sebastian’s friends are my friends.
Fuck, that’s a little pathetic.
“Is it about that guy you had here the other day?” She presses, “Killian, was it?”
My silence is enough of an answer for her.
“Well damn, who is he? What did he do? Were youtogether!?”
“No!” I practically yell, “No nothing like that.”
She pouts. Her disappointment would be amusing if it wasn’t confusing. She has a distrust of men, and rightly so considering her past and whatshe went through before coming here, so for her to be disappointed inmysex life… Mixed signals.
“Well then, what?” She pries.
