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Perfect fucking aim—he should be proud of me.

He turns around in two slow steps and faces me. Pure rage steals out of him. He shifts his head and actually cracks his neck like some sort of lunatic.

Oh shit…

I quickly cover my mouth and see the spear two feet away on the ground. I’m helpless as he stomps toward me, grabs me, and shoves me onto a tree stump. “Why did you do that?” he spits out. His mouth is so close to mine, I can almost taste him.

Because you won’t talk to me, you won’t look at me, you won’t train with me when I clearly followed you to do just that. Because I can’t seem to get any sort of emotion out of you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and when I do things that surprise you, I know it turns you on.

“You said I lost my edge,” I whisper instead of saying all the things swirling in my head. I feel the heat of his body so close, and every emotion I was looking for now blazes out of his eyes and right into me. My knees weaken as he leans down and moves closer, his lips hovering over mine.

With my body frozen in place, he grabs my waist, pushing his body onto mine. With my heart in my throat, I close my eyes as he draws his head down. A few seconds go by.

An inch—a mere inch—and I could have his mouth on mine.

I finally whisper, “Micah, I can’t.”

A pause, then he says, “Why the fuck not?”

I open my eyes, my body shaking and breath shallow.

He shakes his head and leans up to my ear. “Every part of your body is screaming at me to touch you right now.”

“Micah, I’m with Maison.”

“I’m well aware.”

“I can’t do this with you both.”

He curls his lip. “Then why did you stop me just now? When I was trying to leave? Why aren’t you with him right now?”

“I’m worried about you.”

He tilts his head, keeping me trapped inside him. His jaw flexes. “I can assure you, I’m fine.”

A tightness wraps around my chest and heart as he stands so close. I want him—I want him so badly, it hurts my skin. But I shouldn’t want him… I have no reason to want him.

Fuck.

“Micah. I’m confused.”

He leans in closer, his strong body all I can process. “Bullshit. That’s complete bullshit. I know you want me, London. You want me to grab your mouth and kiss you right now. You want me inside you again. You want my hands on you, to watch you, to pay attention to you. Well, here I am, sweetheart. I fucking see you.”

His hand reaches up my shirt, teasing my stomach with his fingers. My muscles clench with each soft stroke. He hovers his hand and draws his gaze down to my mouth, making every inch of me quiver. He restrains himself from kissing and having sex with me against this tree, like I know he wants to.

My words come out as a sob. The world around me goes white—no gray—then a swirl of colors.

“Micah… I…”

He grabs my hands and pulls them up around his neck so our mouths are so close, his heart beating so close to mine. He swallows before saying through gritted teeth, “Do you think I want this? Do you think I chose to have feelings for my brother’s girlfriend? Because I don’t. I don’t want to want you. I’ve gone down this path before, and I nearly lost him over it. I fucking hate the way I feel about you, London.”

A sob escapes my lips and tears flow out of my eyes in one wet blur. He hates the way he felt about me. But he feels, even if it’s apparently hate.

Hate—such a strong word.

I hate it, too. I need to clarify exactly what he’s referring to. Enough of this bullshit. I look up at him, my eyes blazing. “Micah, did you really kill Olivia?”

A silent, deadly pause and he pulls back. “Why the fuck are you asking me that?”