Page 12 of Stroke of Fate

I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m here for it.

When his head tilts toward me, moving closer, I think he’s going to kiss me. And for a maddening second, I want him to. That thought alone is enough for my body to betray me.

Flames ignite low in my belly. A throbbing between my thighs. Anticipation and need. I shift, biting the inside of my cheek to stop a whimper from escaping.

We’re painfully close, and I can feel his warm breath ghost over my lips, sending a shiver of anticipation through me.

The water running in the bathroom cuts out, but it barely registers with me. My body doesn’t seem to care as it leans in to meet his.

But instead of closing the gap, he abruptly straightens, drops the strand of hair he was fingering, and takes a step back. He glances over his shoulder toward the still-closed bathroom door before pinning his piercing gaze on me again.

For a split second, he looks torn. A flicker of indecision passes over his face before his expression turns unreadable.

“You should go.”

I've barely processed his words when a gust of air hits me. A wave of humiliation crashes over me when I realize I was just kicked out.

My brain screams at me to demand an explanation, an apology, anything. But my arms stay frozen at my sides, and I remain rooted to the spot. I don’t know how long I stand there, but eventually muffled voices filter through the door, snapping my senses awake.

Despite my limbs feeling like lead, I make it back to my apartment, determined to put him and our interaction out of my mind.

***

LEVI

Shit.I rest my forehead against the door. A door I just slammed in Bear’s face. The girl from the picture. She was just here—in the flesh. Literally within arm’s reach, and I choked up at the sight of her.

I don’t need to replay what just happened to know I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.

Groaning, I push myself off the door and scrub my hands down my face. A weird buzz courses through my body, and my head is all over the place. I pace back and forth, silently cursing myself, needing to burn off some of this restless energy.

I thought I had it all figured out. Naively, I convinced myself my reaction to her picture was just a fluke, a momentary lapse in character. If she were the girl in the picture, I’d politely invite her inside. Maybe we’d even laugh about the mix-up before I sent her on her way.

That all went to shit the second I opened my door to find her standing there with a big smile, her blue eyes even more captivating up close, calling to me like a damn siren. Calling to me like a damn siren. I never stood a chance.

I pride myself on my composure. In or out of the pool, I’ve always got a handle on my emotions. Nothing shakes me. But shedid. With just one look, she undid every ounce of self-control I had. I feel ashamed of myself for acting that way. I don’t know what came over me because that sure as hell wasn’t the man my mom raised me to be.

It’s just these feelings—this damn compulsion I feel toward her—hit even harder in person. It was all too much, too soon, and confusing as hell.

Now, as the minutes tick by, I can’t help but think I made a callous fuck up of everything.

And what the fuck was I thinking, almost kissing her?

And why the hell do I wish that I did?

Hearing the bathroom door open, I stop pacing and drop onto the couch. I lean back, spreading my legs, trying to look more relaxed than I feel. A few seconds later, the sound of footsteps grows closer.

“Did I hear voices while I was in the shower?” Mack asks, sinking into the chair opposite me.

“Uh, yeah,” I confirm, scratching my jaw in what I hope is a casual gesture.

“Who was it?”

“That girl, Bear.” Fuck. She was already more than justthat girl,but I had to tread lightly.

If Mack even catches a whiff of this, he won’t let me live it down, and I’m not about to discuss this with him. Not when I don’t even understand it myself.

“She came for her stuff,” I add, keeping my face neutral and hoping like hell that he drops it.

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