To spin back and take her face in my damn hands and...
When I don’t move, she puts space between us. “Sorry, I should go.”
No.
“I’ll hang out with Petal another day.”
No. Nope.
Light footsteps pad down my hallway, getting further away with each rapid heartbeat.
Screw this, I’m done fighting.
I push off the vanity and stride for the woman currently walking away from me. I curl my hand around her biceps, and she stops dead in her tracks.
Neither of us speak for a moment. She turns back, and her palm presses over my heart. “You said?—”
“Fuck what I said.” I drop my hands by my side.
Fuck it.
Chapter 18
LONDON
Warmth spreads over my palm as I press it to Miles’s spine. My forehead drops to his shoulder, and I breathe him in.
God, my ovaries just backflipped. Certain of it.
He radiates warmth. His toned muscles are barely moving as he takes too-shallow breaths. But he doesn’t respond. Did I read this all wrong?
Shit, seriously . . .
I step back. “Sorry, I should go.”
He still doesn’t move.
Yeah nah, apparently, I was barking up the wrong tree.
I swallow as heat engulfs my neck and face. “I’ll hang out with Petal another day.”
I make my way down the hallway as the prickle behind my eyes turns to a burn.
I will not fall in a heap over a guy.
I will not.
Swiping at my hair now in my stupid face, I’m almost to the doorway to the living room when a hand wraps around my biceps.
I stop, shame rooting me to the spot, rendering me immobile.
How did I get this so wrong? Was he simply placating me in the watchtower earlier?
Miles doesn’t breathe a word, so I turn back.
His face is . . .
Wrecked.
