With a final nod of reassurance to myself, I spin around. Only to realize, I’m not alone.
“Still into all that mantra shit?” Dean smirks from where he’s casually sitting in a chair in the corner of my room.
“Fuck.” I slap a hand over my heart as I back into the door. “How did you get in here?”
Better yet,whyis he here?
Dean grabs the arms of the chair and slowly stands. Everything about him is the picture of composure. His expression is calm, masking anything he might be thinking. His dark eyes are so intense I can’t look away.
I’d like to think the fact that he’s now rough around the edges is a turnoff. But it’s the opposite. Dean was always gorgeous in a way that was trouble. But now, with his leather cut hanging on his sculpted shoulders, faint scars peppering his neck and arms, he’s undeniably attractive and a flashing warning sign.
His dark hair is messy in that way that makes me want to grab it while shoving his face between my legs. And his dark eyes are so focused they haunt me.
We’ve never fucked—never so much as kissed. Simply looking at him too long would have gotten me into deep shit with my father. But that didn’t stop me from picturing the possibilities a thousand times over the years. Even if that was sure to send me to hell since I was his brother’s girl.
Dean steps forward, and I swear he reads my thoughts as amusement plays in his eyes. The ego of this man is ridiculous but, I suppose, warranted.
I roll my shoulders back, pretending I’m unaffected. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“How do you think I got in?” His eyebrow lifts. “Have you seen the locks on this place? Why the fuck are you staying in this shithole?”
“That’s none of your business.” I jut my chin up.
He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking like he enjoys drawing out my attitude. His shoulders are broader than I remember, his eyes darker.
I open my mouth to tell him off when another man turns the corner out of the bathroom, surprising me.
“At least the toilet works,” he says with a grin.
His patch saysSoul, and it’s weirdly fitting when he seems to see straight through to mine. Soul’s green eyes are so bright they’re mesmerizing, and his dark-blond hair is perfectly styled. But it’s his smile that has my attention. More calculating than playful. A cool chill runs my spine.
Dean looks over his shoulder at Soul. “Did you seriously just take a shit in her bathroom?”
“Took a piss. Chill out.” Soul grins, stepping forward and slipping on a charming mask that carefully hides the darkness that played in his eyes a moment ago. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“None of your fucking business.” I narrow my eyes, refusing to give him my hand when he reaches for it.
Maybe I shouldn’t piss off someone wearing a patch meant to convey the fact that he’s lethal, but Soul bursts out laughing, so I don’t take it back.
“Got it,” Soul says, slapping Dean on the shoulder. “I’ll wait outside. Have fun with this one.”
Dean nods, not taking his eyes off me as Soul leaves us. It isn’t until the door clicks behind him that Dean relaxes his arms and startspacing.
“Why are you here?” I strip off my jacket and toss it aside.
Dean’s eyes roam over me, but he doesn’t gawk like the men outside. It’s like he’s assessing a threat or trying to figure me out.
I grab a hair tie and wrangle my strands into a ponytail, watching Dean through the mirror.
“So, you and my brother ended it?” He steps closer.
“Yeah. What does that have to do with you being in my room?” I turn toward him, all sharp words and cold defenses.
They’re all I have to distract myself from the fact that I’m alone with him, and the last time we were like this, I made the wrong decision. A decision that ruined everything.
“Why the fuck do you think I’m here, Willa?” All levity has left his tone.
He’s angry. But beneath that, defeated, and it draws out my guilt. After all these years, I figured Dean didn’t care about me anymore.
