Mary was a vision of wrath and desire in my doorway, her brows bent in rage while her breasts heaved against the barely there scrap of fabric containing them. The button and zipper of her jeans were undone, too, the lacy fabric of her forest green thong peeking through the V-shaped opening.
When she saw my eyes stick there, her face flushed with color and she hastily zipped and buttoned her jeans before folding her arms over her chest, as if that could hide her curves from my view.
“No,” she spat through her teeth. “What I need is for you to stay the hell out of my room.”
I held up my hands. “Hey, I’ve respected that rule since the moment you put it into place.”
“Oh yeah? Then why is there a fucking candle burning on my dresser? Because I sure as hell didn’t put it there.”
I smiled at that, folding my arms under my chest. The way Mary’s eyes flicked to my pecs told me my upper body pump was distracting, and that made me smile wider.
“It’s a gift.”
“One I didn’t ask for.”
“Well, that’s typically how gifts work. Otherwise, it would just be a transaction, wouldn’t it? You ask for something, I get it for you.” I waved my hand over the space between us. “Doesn’t seem as fun.”
Something washed over Mary, smoothing the line between her brows. I took that, along with the stretch of silence, as an invitation to explain.
“I saw you looking at them at the market,” I said. “And I saw how you put them down, likely because you’re trying to save. I listen when you talk to me, contrary to what you might believe.”
Her jaw tensed like she was grinding her teeth together.
“So, I peeked at what scents you had picked up and went back the next day to get them for you.”
She blinked, quiet for a long moment before she whispered one word.
“Why?”
“Why not?” I shrugged. “I wanted to do something nice.”
Again, there was that softening, one that made me want to cross the distance between us and wrap her in my arms. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted so desperately to hold her and watch all that tension melt, feel her relax in my hold and rest her head against my chest and whisper thank you. I wanted to know what it would feel like to show her a little kindness, a little care, and her actually accept it.
The need was so strong I almost succumbed to it, but at the subtle shift of my body, she hardened again, her spiky shell snapping back in place.
“I don’t need your pity,” she said, taking two full steps toward me and pointing her finger at my chest.
“It’s not pi—”
“Or your gifts,” she said, cutting me off. “Stop being nice to me.”
I pressed right back into her space, making her back down only an inch, but she stood her ground just enough that my chest brushed hers. The metal of her piercings hit the top of my abdomen and I suffocated the groan I wanted to let loose at the touch.
“Why?” I challenged, staring down at her over the bridge of my nose. “Because it makes it harder to hate me so damn much?”
Her mouth parted, eyelids fluttering so softly I questioned whether they did at all before she narrowed her gaze and pressed harder into me. “Trust me — that is always going to be easy for me.”
“And why is that, exactly? What did I do to earn such passionate disaffection from you?”
She opened her mouth like she was ready to scream the answer at me, and I willed her to do it. I wanted the fight.
Give me that fire, I silently begged.
But the ire and passion drained out of her, her face relaxing, expression blank in an instant — like she decided I wasn’t worth it.
She pulled away, taking all the heat and tension with her as the cool air of my room swept between us.
“Stay out of my room,” she said pointedly, and then she spun on her heel and blew through my door, slamming it closed behind her.
