Oh fuckingshit.
I'm jealous.
Not just possessive.Jealous.
"You would not," I grit out.
"Would."
I keep staring at her. Searching. Waiting for the mask behind the mask. The polite lie, the charitable deflection, theof course it didn't bother me, I'm too good of a person to be bothered by something like that,which is always bullshit, every time.
I don't find it.
She just looks back at me. Patient. Unblinking. Like the question is genuinely confusing to her rather than something she has a rehearsed answer for.
I look away first.
"Let's get this over with," I mutter, rising from the ledge.
"Yeah?"
She straightens up, her energy shifting from gentle to sharp in the space of a heartbeat as she springs to her feet. The reckless speed of the movement makes me feel like I'm going to fucking pass out and my hands go numb and she grabs the case from me.
"Yoink!"
"Be careful," I snarl, automatically lunging to grab her before she falls to her fucking death, but she just hops down from the ledge and lands on the rooftop.
The fact Icarepisses me off all over again.
"Aww. See, you do care," she teases, turning to face me with the case clutched to her chest like she thinks I might grab it and fling it off the rooftop. Truthfully, I'm tempted. "So. You're gonna let me practice the stunt?"
I hesitate.
"I'll reward you," she adds.
And then her hands are on my chest, smoothing down my shirt, and she's grinning that maniacal grin up at me with her sharp little canines I've always wondered if she had filed or something.
Wouldn't put it past the little psycho.
"What."
"You heard me," she says, and she glances pointedly down at the semi in my pants that's there even though I'm pissed and annoyed and jealous and all kinds of bullshit that should definitelynotbe making me fucking hard right now.
But her hands are on me, firmly enough I can feel my pulse hammering against her palms, and I go hard so fast it's actually painful.
The scar on my knot flares, that spiraling ridge of damaged tissue pulling against the sudden rush of blood, the twinge radiating up through my shaft like a warning shot. My jaw clenches and I angle my body slightly away from her so the fog and shadow hides what my pants can't.
Fuck.
The fact that three words from this woman can override a decade of careful, deliberate physical isolation is infuriating. The fact that my body responds to her like it's been starving for years and she just rang the dinner bell ishumiliating.
The fact that I'm annoyed about being hard, annoyed about beingannoyedabout being hard, and she's just standing there with that wicked fucking grin like she knows exactly what she did?—
"I hate you," I growl.
Not as much as I hatemyselfright now.
"Thank the gods. The last thing we need is tolikeeach other. Ew." She shoves the case back into my hands. "Go put it on."