“Shit,” I breathe, clutching at my chest. “Riv, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” His eyes lazily scan me up and down, though I’m not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it. We’ve been playing this cat and mouse game for so long that I’m almost used to his attention by now. Almost.
Slowly, he lowers his hand back down to his side, though his eyes keep roaming my exposed skin like it’s an exhibition of art. But that’s as far as it’ll go.
Looking.
No touching.
No mercy.
Only his heated gaze and all of the possibilities that will always be just out of reach.
If I didn’t crave his attention so much, I’d call him out for it. But I won’t.
Besides, it’s harmless.
Like Jake said, Riv would never be interested in me. He’s a flirt. And I’m his live-in entertainment.
“Can I help you?” I tease in hopes of breaking the electric current pulsing through the cramped hall. I can only take so much torture in one day.
He doesn’t step away, leaving less than a foot of space between us. My body hums with awareness of our proximity before I fold my arms, using them as an impromptu barrier between me and the man who enjoys toying with my libido.
When his eyes finally meet mine, he tells me, “Your phone’s been ringing off the hook for twenty minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were okay in here.”
“My phone?”
“Yeah.”
Who the hell would be calling me?
Sure enough, the familiar tune of “She Hates Me” by Puddle of Mudd filters from my bedroom. My expression hardens before I raise one finger in the air as a silent request for him to give me a second. Then I rush to my room. I can feel River watching me from the doorway as I fumble with the silence button on my cell, but I’m too annoyed to care.
“There. Sorry about that.”
“Who is it?” River demands, his earlier amusement evaporating into thin air.
“No one,” I mutter under my breath while trying to keep my lady bits covered with my towel in front of the guy I’m totally crushing on.
“Does he still call you often?”
“Only when he’s drunk or high.”
Hovering near the entrance of my room, River weighs his options before giving in and striding over to me.
“Could he be dangerous?” he demands.
I scoff. “No, of course not.”
Unconvinced, River’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but we’ve already established he was emotionally abusive. I need to know if that could ever cross into physical.”
“What? No, of course not,” I repeat. “Besides, it was just a phone call, Riv.”
“You sure about that?” He crowds my space a little more until I can barely think straight as his familiar scent washes over me.
Damn, he smells good. Why does he smell so amazing?
“Answer the question, Reese.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to concentrate, but it doesn’t work. He isn’t playing fair. Looks I can handle. But smells? Especially when I’m pretty sure I could bottle his scent and make millions? A girl can only take so much.
What’s next? Touch? Taste? Does he want to kill me?
With an exasperated sigh, I look up at him when my phone starts to buzz in my hand.
Dammit, Ian!
“Give me the phone, Reese,” River demands.
“No.”
“Give me the phone, so I can tell him to leave you the hell alone.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You’ve had plenty of time to take care of it, and apparently, he isn’t getting the hint. Give me the phone.” River raises his hand with the palm facing up, but my phone stops buzzing at the same moment.
“No need.” I lift my cell and wiggle it back and forth to display the dark screen, but the damn thing lights right back up again.
As River lunges for it, I twist my arm behind my back but find myself in a bear hug of muscle and testosterone when he continues his pursuit of my stupid cell. With my breasts smashed against his broad chest, his strong arms envelop me until all I can see, feel, and smell is him.
“Give me the damn phone, Reese,” he growls. The sound vibrates through me, shining a light on our precarious position like a damn strobe light.
I freeze.
Me. In nothing but a towel and a stubborn attitude that could rival a bull’s.
And him. In a T-shirt and dark jeans, looking good enough to lick.
Literally.
With our chests pressed together and his arms wrapped around my waist, my breath hitches. This is new. And it’s too much. Too much temptation. Too much lust. Too much curiosity for my own good. Then I peek up at him and regret it instantly. Looking is one thing, but with his cool minty breath fanning across my cheeks…shit.
That same electric current pulses, promising a spark that could easily turn into an inferno. I feel his fingers dig into the gray terry cloth along the curve of my lower back before the bruising pressure disappears just as quickly. Like I’m dangerous. Like I’m a ticking time bomb that could detonate at any second. And we’d both be obliterated, causing irreparable damage in the blink of an eye before either of us could help it.
But man, what a way to go.
Stepping away from me, River motions to the phone in my hand as it lights up again.
“If you don’t take care of that, I will,” he threatens.
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone and more confused and sexually frustrated than I’ve been in a long time.
My palms are sweaty as I give in and finally answer the stupid call. “What do you want, Ian?”
“You know what I want,” he answers nonchalantly like he hasn’t been blowing up my phone for a solid thirty minutes.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tell him, “Listen. I called the landlord a couple of weeks ago. He was generous enough to take my name off the lease. You can keep the security deposit to help cover rent for the next month or whatever, but you might want to contact him if you plan on moving out.”
“You serious?” His voice is dripping with disbelief, and I want to laugh when I realize he’s actually surprised I haven’t run back to him yet.
“We’re through, Ian,” I remind him.
“Bullshit. You know I can’t let you go. You know––”
“Stop calling me, okay? Goodbye.”
Then I push the little red button to end the call and release the tension I’d been holding from the moment I answered.
He’s right, though. I know how possessive he can be. I know how much he loves a challenge. And I know that he won’t leave me alone until he finds a new girl to play with, which is ironic because that’s what pushed me to end things in the first place.
Asshole.
18
Reese
Closing my bedroom door, I get dressed quickly, then skip down the stairs in search of food in hopes of it erasing the bitter taste my conversation with Ian left in my mouth.
My feet dig into the hardwood floor at the base of the steps when River’s voice filters through the air from the kitchen.
“Appendicitis? Are you serious?”