She doesn’t get that for me, there already are.
There always were.
Every time she’s near me, those thick, frayed chords pull tighter around my ribs and?—
Rappa-tap-tap.
My gaze snaps towards the heavy oak door, pulse detonating. Fuck. Only two people would knock this late. And one’s too busy getting busy with his bride, which means?—
‘Axel?’
Taylor.
Her voice filters through the wood. Soft. Familiar. Dangerous in all the wrong ways.
My mind paints her on the other side: green silk, bare shoulders, eyes I’ve spent half my life pretending not to fall into.
‘Can we talk?Please?’
It’s thepleasethat cuts through my own bullshit.
What the hell am I doing?
It’s been thirty years since I feared facing anyone.
But this ain’t about facing someone, it’s about facing fucking feelings. Feelings I have no business feeling in the first fucking place.
And none of that’s her problem.
It’s mine.
And she deserves better.
I catch my reflection in the mirror above the stone fireplace, shove my hair into place, and stalk to the door.
‘Please Ax?—’
I rip it open – and every muscle in me freezes.
Air? Gone.
Taylor stands there barefoot. Hazel eyes shot through with gold. Red-stained lips parted just enough to taunt me. Dark hair twisted up into an intricate knot that’s been driving me half-mad since sunrise. And that cursed silk, revealing every curve right up to the two pebble-like points.
My pulse slams.Dammit. Eyes up!
‘Can I come in?’ Her voice trembles at the edges and my walls crumble.
I’ve never seen her like this. Hesitant. Pleading.
Taylor with purpose is trouble.
Taylor withneedis a goddamn threat.
And seeing it directed at me… it’s like baring my throat to a predator I want to devour.
I step back, let her pass.
Keep my gaze nailed to the wall.
