My fingers twitch at my sides, jaw ticking as I force myself to look away from her and meet his eyes.
Still smug. Still reckless. Still too pretty to be this in control. I remember the way I shoved him in the locker room. The way his mouth claimed mine instead of pushing me back.
The way it lit something under my skin, something hot and desperate and dangerous. My gaze drops to his mouth now, and for just a second, I want to shove him again.
Harder.
I want to make him snap. Because he will break. And when he does, I’ll be right there, between him and Willow. Right where I belong.
I tilt my head, smirking just enough to needle him. “You sure you’re the one who should be telling people not to touch?”
His jaw flexes, nostrils flaring. Good. I take one more step forward, deliberately brushing too close. Willow sucks in abreath, her scent ghosting toward me on the night air. Peaches and cream and longing.
I could reach her in two strides. I could have her in my arms in one breath.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Because this game is just getting started.
“Did you follow us?” Willow asks, her voice calm. Curious. Not afraid. Never afraid of me.
I turn my attention back to her, devouring every inch of her up close. The way her mouth glistens from the last of her ice cream, her cheeks flushed from the cool night air—or maybe from me. My fingers itch for my camera, the one I had to leave behind when Carson yanked her out of the apartment as though there was a damn fire. I didn’t have time to grab anything. Just sprinted down the stairs and melted into the street crowd fast enough to follow.
I watched through the window, watched Carson charm her out of her sadness with soft touches and sweet looks, and that cocky smile he wears.
I also watched her other bodyguard kiss her—Graham. Press her up against the kitchen counter, devouring her as though he was starving for her. And then send her away.
Stupid alpha.
The way her shoulders curled in on themselves afterward, hurt and broken. That wasn’t okay. That made me want to pay him a visit.
Alphas who touch what they don’t intend to keep deserve consequences. Lessons. And I’m a very good teacher.
My fingers curl into fists at the thought, the phantom sensation of her skin under my hands already lighting up my nerves.
“Of course he did,” Carson cuts in, stepping forward justenough to put his body between mine and hers again. “That’s the definition of a stalker, peaches.”
Peaches.
That nickname again. So smug on his tongue. So intimate. My gaze flicks toward him, and I know he feels the shift. The way tension slithers into the air between us, coiling tight.
I lift my chin just enough to meet his eyes, unbothered. Daring.
“Funny,” I murmur pleasantly. “You didn’t mind when you found me in the locker room, Carson.”
His eyes darken. His jaw tightens. Willow shifts behind him, sensing it.
I wonder if she feels it too, that crackling current between Carson and me, the hunger that isn't just about her. It's all tied together now. All of us. But I keep my eyes on the alpha blocking my path.
I’m not going to touch her. Not yet.
But I will get closer.
“Carson, you promised,” Willow says.
Carson glances at her, his jaw tight, shoulders coiled, one second from dragging her away. But then he exhales. Slow. Controlled. And with visible reluctance, he steps aside.
