“You are mine.” He says simply. “We both know it.”
“Oh my god. You’re insane, and we are not having this conversation here.” I snap.
“Fine. Where would you like to have it? Your bedroom? Because I have very fond memories of that location.”
My face burns. “Stop.”
“Why? You started something yesterday, Bambi. Did you think I’d just forget about it?”
“I didn’t start anything. You’re the one that kissed me.”
“And you kissed me back.” He says, his voice low in my ear. He takes another step forward, backing me up against the shelves. “You climbed on my lap. You dry-fucked me until you soaked through those cute little shorts. And you moaned my fucking name like it was a prayer.”
“Shut up.” I whisper desperately, my eyes darting to make sure no one can hear us.
“You showed me your tits.” His voice drops even lower, intimate and devastating. “Not because I forced you. But because you wanted me to see them. You wanted me to remember them.”
“That’s not?—”
“And now you’re standing here pretending yesterday didn’t happen.” He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and I swallow hard. “But I can see it in your eyes, Bambi. You’re thinking about it too. About how good it felt. About how close you were. And I bet if I slipped my hand between your legs right now, it’d come out glistening.”
He’s right. And I really fucking hate that he is.
“You need to leave.” I force out.
“Why? Afraid of what you’ll do if I stay?”
Yes.
I’m about to tell him to go to hell when I notice movement on the other end of the aisle. It’s Fallon. She’s rounding the corner
Fuck.
“Get out of here.” I hiss, trying to shove him away.
My fingers press against his stomach, which is disturbingly solid, and the maniac actually smiles at me, like he knows what I’m thinking.
“Bambi, if you wanted an excuse to touch me again, you could’ve just asked.”
I let out of huff of frustration and yank my hands away. “You’re ridiculous.”
He flashes a smile as his eyes gaze at something behind me. “And we have company.”
I turn around to find Fallon standing in front of us with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in her hand and suspicion written all over her face.
Her gaze lands on Echo and sharpens immediately. I watch her take in his expensive suit, his good looks, and the way he’s still standing way too close to me.
“Dahlia…” she says softly, keeping her eyes locked on him. “Who is this?”
I open my mouth, but my brain has completely short-circuits.
Echo steps forward and extends his hand like some kind of gentleman. “I’m Echo,” he says smoothly. “You must be Fallon. I’ve heard so much about you.”
When?I want to scream.When have you heard about her?
Fallon hesitates, her eyes flicking to me for confirmation. When I don’t immediately object, she slowly shakes his hand.
“Funny.” She says, her grip lingering just long enough to make it pointed. “Because she’s never mentioned you.”
