Page 94 of The Ache That Stayed

“You could’ve called.”

It came out wrong—more desperate than angry.

“My battery died. And I was working,” she snapped. “I don’t owe you minute-by-minute updates.”

“You could’ve let me know where you were,” I said through clenched teeth, the words tight, shaking with frustration and dread.

Because I could still taste her on my tongue. Still feel her in my hands. Still hear the way she breathed my name.

And now—it turned the hunger in me restless. Possessive.

Watching another man smile at her made the beast rise in my chest. Made me want to burn the damn bar down. Probably with the bar tender in it. An animal I barely kept on a leash.

“Why?” she threw back. “You’re not my keeper.”

I stepped closer until our breaths mixed. The air felt thick and heavy.

Anger and frustration bubbled at the seam of my patience. And this gorgeously infuriating woman was testing every inch of it with every word she spat. Her breath hitched as my toe touched hers.

“You don’t get to disappear on me,” I said, jaw tight.

Her eyes softened for the briefest second—then hardened again. If I hadn’t been staring at her, I would’ve missed it.

“Too bad, Santino,” she breathed. “I’m not yours.”

My hands curled into fists by my sides.

“Then why did jealousy hit you like a truck the second she touched me?” I asked, voice low. “Why did you look like you wanted to rip her arm off?”

Her mouth opened and shut. Her throat bobbed. She didn’t answer. So I leaned down, close enough for my voice to whisper on her skin.

“Because you felt it.”

She shuddered.

“So did I.”

I stepped forward. She stepped back. Another step forward, another step back. Then another.

Our dance played to the thrumming of lust and anger coursing through my veins, till her back hit the wall. The sound of it was soft, final, cutting through the room.

She sucked in a breath, realising she had nowhere left to go now.

“Don’t,” she warned, voice shaky even though she tried to make it sound sharp.

I braced one hand beside her head. Then the other. Caging her without touching her. Her chest rose and fell, breaths coming out shallow now. Her thighs pressed together like she didn’t trust herself not to move.

My hand came up slowly, settling at her throat. Not tight.

Just enough to feel her pulse beneath my fingers. Fast. Matching mine.

I lowered my head until our foreheads almost touched.

“Say it,” I whispered. “Say you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” she rasped.

Liar.