Page 118 of Devious Obsession
“One, two, three,” I whisper, heaving my body out onthree.
Strong hands catch my hips and lower me down.
I look up, only half surprised to see Steele in front of me. I was too busy staring at the ground to see who was approaching, and now he’s got ahold of me. When my feet touch the grass, he lets go. Still standing too close, though. All I would have to do is sway forward and my chest would brush his.
“What are you running away from?”
I blow out a breath. “What makes you think I’m running away?”
“Sensible ladies use the front door.”
“What makes you think I’m sensible?”
He smirks. “Certainly not your way of exiting your apartment, that’s for sure.” He leans down. “Or maybe it’s the way you like to fuck that gives it away.”
I smack his shoulder, belatedly remembering my anger. “You stole my music.”
His eyebrows rise. “Did I?”
“Yes, and I’m mad at you for it.” I glance up at the window. The top is out of reach to close, which is a minor inconvenience.
Whatever.
I brush past Steele and step onto the sidewalk, striding quickly toward school. He doesn’t follow. Not immediately. And a quick glance back shows him stretching upward to close my window for me, his shirt riding up and revealing a slice of his abs.
My cheeks heat, and I whip back around.
Soon enough, he’s at my side. A step behind, like a hulking shadow that I can’t remove. I ignore him. The tattoo keeps drawing my attention, the ache of it like a sunburn. My panties irritate it, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out.
“I like you mad,” he says. “But something else has you riled. Nothing I’ve done would make you go out the window. Even stealing sheet music. Which I did not do.”
I ignore that observation. I really don’t want to talk about it anyway. We get to campus in silence, and I go straight to the music hall. There’s a printer I can use to get this audition piece printed, and then I’ll be well on my way to rehearsal. Then I just need to perfect it and schedule my audition.
Easy.
He keeps up with me while I do just that, snatching the pages still warm with ink the moment they come to a rest in the tray. I reach for them, but he blocks me with his body. He flips through the pages, then faces me again. Still holding those damn papers like they’re not the most important thing right now.
This is my future we’re talking about.
“Give them back.” I hold out my hand.
“What will you give me in return?” His eyes dance.
No. “Nothing, Steele. I’ll give you all the cold shoulders you could ever imagine—and none of my fight.”
His smile fades. “What’s really wrong?”
“You’re what’s wrong,” I snap, reaching again for the pages.
He lets me have them this time. They slip harmlessly through his fingers.
I press them to my chest. My heart is beating furiously, and I don’t know what to do to stop it. How to calm down around him. I just want to hit him and yell at him and—
“Aspen,” he murmurs.
“You branded me like some—some—” I shake my head.
Not doing this.
