Page 53 of The Villain

It was the same hidden hurt that had been in her eyes the last time I’d told her I was leaving almost two decades ago. The day I’d left for basic training, she’d smiled with hope as though I couldn’t see how she wanted to cry.

I hadn’t known how I’d hurt her then—I hadn’t known that the forever I’d promised would be a lie—but what difference did it make now?

“Dare…”

A whip of self-loathing snapped through me.

“Yeah, we’re here.” I punched the button, shutting the engine off, and got out of the car.

Being around her now made my body react like I was at war. Every muscle tensed. Adrenaline thumping. Prepared for danger and attack at any moment. Except the danger was desire, and the attack was self-inflicted each time I touched her.

“I’ve got you.” My teeth ground tightly together as I took her hand and helped her out of the car. “Curb,” I warned.

She lifted her foot higher, leaning closer—harder on me for an instant—until she was on the lawn. And then I heard her inhale, her breath like a key in a lock, before she gently pushed away from me, wanting to move forward on her own.

“Athena…” She should let me guide her.

She turned her head, and the way the sunlight bathed herwas almost too painful to bear. Her blond hair moved gently with the breeze. Her white summer dress—also borrowed from Rob—hugged each and every curve, which was now memory rather than fantasy. The soft part of her full lips and my sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose—the aviators looked better on her than they did on me. Like they belonged to her.

Just like everything else of mine.

My cabin. My bed. My bathtub.

My hands. My mouth. My?—

I let out a groan and stepped my feet apart, feeling my cock start to thicken.

“Even blind, I know when I’m home,” she said firmly, thinking my groan was directed at her. And I didn’t correct her.

Touching her the other night was a mistake of the first order. But touching myself while I did it…that should’ve been a fucking felony.

But I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t control the need raging through me when she pulled my mouth to hers. It was like a dam burst inside me. Mind, body, and every bit of my broken soul were flooded with wanting her.

And I couldn’t let it happen again—I wasn’t even going to let myself get close. And part of that plan involved not discussing the other night at all even though I’d told her we would.

What was one more broken promise except a good reason for this woman to stop wanting a man she never should’ve wanted in the first place?

I hoped she’d come to a similar realization, and that was what kept her quiet. Regret rather than unrequited want. Like we’d created our very own bomb, and we were now too ashamed to get close to it for fear of what destruction it would cause.

“Dare—” Athena stopped suddenly when she reached the door.

“What is it?” I was by her side in an instant, barely managing to hold myself back from reaching for her arm. “Do you remember something?”

She turned her head. This close, I could see her wide gaze through the dark filter of my glasses. “How did you get inside the other day?”

Shit.I tensed, cleared my throat, and then lied straight through my teeth. “Picked the lock.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you there’s a spare key underneath that planter.” She pointed with surprising accuracy at the small container I was already reaching under—the key exactly where I’d found it—and then returned it the other day.

“Got it.” I went to let us inside, but I wasn’t fast enough.

“My senior year, I snuck out to watch a meteor shower with my boyfriend.” She started to reminisce, her soft voice catching the memory inside me like bait on a hook, reeling a fresh burst of heat through my veins. “We watched the sky fall for what felt like hours, and when we got back, my mom had locked the door.”

“So, you climbed in through a window?” I asked like I didn’t already know the answer, shoving the spare key into the door against the protest of the old, rusted lock.I was going to replace the whole damn thing before I let her go home for good; this deadbolt was garbage.

“No.” I heard her smile. I hated when she smiled and it was because of me, the boy who’d left her. “My boyfriend insisted he could pick the lock.”

“Yeah?” The door gave way, and my relief blew through my lips. “Door’s open.”

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