Skye pivoted, surprised to see Ash jogging in her direction. His white T-shirt was pulled taut across the muscles of his chest.
What was he doing?Whatever it was, she wasn’t in the mood to engage in a conversation with the arrogant bastard.
Turning back, she ignored him and followed the flow of the crowd.
“Hey!” His voice resonated down the escalator.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw he’d quickened his stride.
“What the fuck?” Annoyance salted the deep timbre of his voice, so like an arrogant prick.
Very much like Spencer.
“Come back here,” he called out.
His feet pounded atop the concrete floor, and Skye did what she always did when a man confronted her.
She ran.
Chapter Three
Skye pushedpast the morning Metro commuters and fumbled for the lanyard at her neck, not interested in dealing with Ash.
Along with the bundled travelers, the frigid wind spilled down the long escalators heading into the DC Metro. A true feat of engineering, the warren of Metro lines and the cavernous design of the platforms kept the busy subway system of the nation’s capital one of the cleanest among large metropolitan cities.
Why was he chasing her?The last thing she needed was some cocksure asshole trying to pick her up.
“Goddamn it. Stop!” Ash yelled.
She ignored him and fished out her Metro pass, but then his hand fell on her shoulder, yanking her to a stop.
With a yelp, she reached for his wrist—or tried to. She’d forgotten about her drink. The top popped off, and hot cocoa spewed directly toward his chest. The steaming liquid splattered across his taut white cotton shirt. Many of those passing by gawked, but as a whole, the crowd parted around them.
“Oh my God!” The empty paper cup tumbled to the floor, more hot cocoa flying, and Skye shook out her hand.
Droplets splattered his jeans and the tops of his Converse sneakers. The tail end of the dark chocolaty goodness coated his hand as well as his shirt.
“Fuck.” He pulled the fabric away from his chest.
Only then did she notice her backpack slung over his shoulder. Her attention shifted from the brown stain on his shirt to the hot cocoa dripping off his hand and back to her bag.
“I’m so sorry.” She prayed the liquid had cooled enough not to scald him.
His nose scrunched. “What the fuck is this?” He leveled the full intensity of his gaze on her. Then, he sniffed his shirt. “That’s not coffee.”
The wet T-shirt outlined a six-pack beneath the fabric, and she couldn’t help but stare.
“It’s cocoa.”
“Isn’t that a kiddie drink?”
“I like it,” she said with a huff.
“Whatever.” He thrust her bag forward. “You left this.”
She tried to take her bag, but his grip stayed firm.
Ash closed the distance between them. “Why did you run?”
