“I have no problem with that. The more, the merrier, right?”
She bites her lip. And God—those lips. I want to kiss them.
“Something like that,” she murmurs, letting her hand drift to the counter and brushing near mine. Close enough that her warmth seeps into me, intoxicating in its effect. Her scent, subtle from her perfume, wraps around me.
I’m completely fucked.
“Oh, I wanted to thank you,” she adds, soft, almost shy, through her green eyes, like emeralds shining under the bright sun.
“Thank me?”
She rubs her wrist against her top, the same wrist she'd cut, the one I can't bear to think about.
“For letting me live here. Just… for everything. You never let me be alone, even when I wanted to. Today was the first time I danced, and I know it was your idea.” She wipes at her eyes, and my heart clenches. “Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I hated you.”
I grin down at her. “You don't hate me anymore?”
Not gonna lie, I really fucking like that she doesn't hate me.
She giggles, eyes crinkling. “No, even though I really did try.”
I don't doubt it for a second.
A loose strand of hair escapes her bun. Before she can tuck it back, I do it for her. My fingers graze her cheek, curling the copper piece behind her studded ear, and I catch the way her lashes flutter, the tiny hitch in her breath.
“You don't have to thank me for helping you,” I rasp. “I’d do it all again.”
The urge to touch her, to pull her closer, claws at me. I grip the counter to stop myself, but then her hand slides forward, brushing mine.
Every brush of her skin against mine lights me up in ways I haven't felt in far too long. I gulp slowly as she leans in, and I find myself moving closer too, drawn to her like gravity.
Just as my lips hover over hers, my heart thuds so loud I’m sure she can hear it. I want her—need her—so damn much. But I stop.
A harsh exhale escapes my nose. I grit my teeth, close my eyes for a fraction of a second, forcing control back over the desire trying to take over. When I open my eyes again, she's stumbling back, cheeks flushed, eyes glistening, and my chest twists at the sight.
Ah, fuck.
“We can't," I manage, voice tight, ready to explain why—but she's already retreating, and all I want to do is pull her back against me, claim her in some impossible way.
“I’m sorry,” she stammers, fumbling for words, eyes avoiding mine. “Oh god… just forget that happened. Well, nothing happened, but erm, just forget it.” She grabs two plates of food and spins, practically running up the stairs, leaving me numb and aching all at once.
The hurt on her face cuts me deeper than I expected. She probably thinks I feel nothing for her, when the truth is the exact opposite.
I feel everything for her. Every thought, every heartbeat, every unspoken want. My restraint—the one thing keeping us from spiralling into chaos—shines a cruel light on how badly I want her.
I want to kiss her, to lie tangled with her in bed until we’re laughing for no reason at all, to map every curve of her with my hands and learn the way she reacts under my touch. The thought of her playful, bratty side makes me want to redden her ass or stuff her mouth full with my cock.
Which is inappropriately hard right now.
Now isn't the right time.
I just hope she understands because some part of me doesn't anymore.
Chapter 15
Willow
I watch the dark clouds roll across the sky as one of my customers finally leaves, the gloomy weather mirroring my mood perfectly. I’m not even sure what I feel—some messy cocktail of sadness, confusion, embarrassment, and simmering anger.
