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Doesn’t look away.

Her head tilts back.

Her red-stained lips part slightly.

The scent of jasmine perfuses the air surrounding us.

My pulse starts hammering in my ears.

“Rusty,” I say quietly.

Her breath catches.

“Don’t call me that,” she murmurs.

But there’s no real heat behind the words.

“Why not?”

“You lost the right.”

Fair.

And because I want that right back, I don’t move away.

Instead, I reach out slowly, giving her every chance in the world to stop me.

My hand brushes a loose curl away from her cheek.

I cup my hand around her neck, and I tug on it until she’s standing right in front of me.

Her skin is warm beneath my fingers.

She shivers—fucking shivers.

And now my cock is so hard I could pound nails with it.

Three years and she still reacts to me like that.

“You should hate me,” I say quietly.

“Some days I do.”

“And the other days?”

She swallows.

Her voice drops to almost nothing.

“The other days are worse.”

“Why?”

“Because on those days I forget how you left me, and I-I still care, Alessio.”

My chest tightens.

Because I know exactly what she means.