The noise chimed again, and Minerva lifted her head from her bed in the corner to let out an annoyed meow.
Wait.
“Hold on a sec. You invited a blind date here? To your house? After some of the doozies you’ve been on, you knowingly gave someone your address?”
I put my hands on her shoulders, moving her aside as I strode into the hallway, vision tunneling and turning red with anger.Her house!I stomped closer to the door, preparing to threaten, maim, intimidate, or any combination of those, when her hand closed around the back of my shirt, and she tugged.
I wanted to rip myself out of her grasp, to turn and stick my finger in her face, demanding a reason for her stupidity, but my breath stuttered when I turned and saw the cold of her glare.
This look could freeze the fires of Prometheus. The deepest core of the Earth wouldn’t stand a chance against the iciness of her eyes.
“How dare you—” she started, letting go of my shirt and pushing against my chest. The force of her palms connecting with my pectorals would usually send blood flowing south and my cock begging for attention. But this fierceness radiating from every pore in her body awoke something different inside me—something proud and feral—determined and loyal.
Something I want to capture and claim as my own.Not as a possession or a trophy, no. Something for me to cherish and nurture.
“How dare I?” I said back, pushing my wayward thoughts aside and cutting off her words as her eyes turned to storm clouds, and I imagined lightning crackling around her as her anger raged.
“You don’t get to come into my house and make demands of me,” she hissed, pushing me to the side and smoothing down her dress. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she turned, squinting and pursing her lips. “You have no say in what I do with my time. If I decide to advertise my address and phone number on a plane banner flying over Folly Beach, that’s my decision.”
She shook her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders, and plastered on a smile. I scowled from the hallway behind her, knowing my angerwasn’tmisplaced. Not when we had an ongoing text message thread about the number of dick pics she got a week. Emma could be one pervert away from a stalker, and fuck it all if I’d let that happen to someone I—
“Court,” she said, opening the door and speaking in this breathy, simpering voice that was eons different from the woman who’d fisted my shirt and tugged me into submission. “It’s good to see you.”
“Wow, Emma. You look great,” the nasally voice answered, holding a single sunflower out to her. I moved closer, peering around the door to take in herdate.I already had a one-up on this imbecile, knowing her favorite flowers were daisies. He was several inches shorter and at least twenty pounds lighter than me, wearing a crisp blue button-down shirt, untucked, with khakis and cowboy boots?Yep.Cowboy boots.
I rolled my eyes, cracking my knuckles as he leaned closer, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. His eyes darted to mine with the sound, and his smile faded as he took in my appearance.
“Oh. Hey, man. I’m—” His hand was partway stretched to mine, but I shook my head, stopping his words.
“Just a minute, guy. We weren’t done with our conversation.”
I stared at his hand on the doorframe, and he slowly moved it so I could close the door in his confused face. Emma’s face dropped the placating smile and formed a frown, glaring at me.
“Seriously. What the fuck, Em? Why did you tell some guy where you lived?”
She grabbed a fistful of my shirt and dragged me to the kitchen, stomping her bare feet so loudly I could hear each footfall on the carpet.
“There are so many things wrong with what you just did, Miller.”
I balled my hands by my side as she thumped me on the chest.
“One. You’re the one who showed up unannounced.”
Thump.
“Two. This happens to be a date with someone who just moved into the building.”
Thump.
“Three.”
I watched her grab and twist a spare thread from the corner of her dress. Her tight shoulders were at war with the fieriness of her gaze, like she was waiting for me to argue. This was us—all passion and fire bound under the illusion of friendship.
“Three,” she repeated, squinting like her thoughts had been swept out from underneath her. Her hands dropped to her waist, and her gaze fell to the floor as I took a breath and then allowed my fingers to skate up her arms. My hands cupped her face, and I searched her eyes.
The last time we slept together—that moment we shared when she showed up, looking at me with so much vulnerability, my chest ached—had happened because ofher.Her willpower had slipped, or so I thought, revealing deeper desires.
Her friendship would never be enough. There was too much temptation to storm the castle with a battering ram and mace,ready to destroy the carefully constructed wall she’d built around us—if she’d only give me one verbal hint that the feeling was mutual.
