Page 70 of North

“You really believe that?”

I licked my lips, my throat suddenly dry. “I have to.”

North studied me, his expression unreadable. Then, so softly I almost missed it, he murmured, “Liar.”

My pulse pounded. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. I left, North. I left for a reason.”

His jaw clenched, his hands tightening around my hips. “And yet, you let me in.”

He wasn’t talking about my apartment, he’d broken in without letting me know. He was talking about my legs and my heart. A bitter laugh escaped me. “Like you ever gave me a choice.”

His eyes darkened. “You always had a choice, Quinn.”

I shoved against his chest, needing space, needing air. “If that’s true, then I’m making it now. I want you to leave.”

He didn’t move.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “North.”

He exhaled, his thumb brushing over my hip in a slow, agonizing caress. “I don’t believe you.”

I bit my lip, hating the way my body still burned for him, even now. “I don’t care what you believe. You can’t just show up here, break into my room, and act like that’s normal.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

His expression hardened. “So, what? You were just going to pretend I didn’t exist? Pretend none of this happened? And if you were pregnant? What then?”

“That was the plan.” I didn’t know what to do about the rest.

North made a low, frustrated sound in his throat. “Too fucking bad, Quinn. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped me. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

His hand slid to my throat, his grip firm but not tight, his thumb resting against the frantic pulse beneath my skin. His gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “I don’t care how much you fight me on this. I don’t care how much you run. You’re not leaving me, Quinn.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the weight of his words sink in. “I don’t belong to you.”

His fingers flexed against my throat. “Yes, you do.”

I opened my mouth—to snap, to scream, to tell him exactly how much I fucking hated him—but then he moved. His lips brushed mine, slow and devastating, and before I could stop myself, I gasped, my resolve slipping through my fingers like sand.

He swallowed the sound, his grip on me tightening as he deepened the kiss as if he could consume every ounce of my resistance. And maybe he could. Because the second his tongue slid against mine, the second his body pressed fully against me again, all of my anger, my pain, my hatred—it melted into something darker, something far more dangerous.

Desperation.

I grabbed his face, pulling him down as I arched into him as if I could disappear inside the chaos he created, hoping I could drown in it completely. Maybe I already had.

His groan vibrated through me, his hands roaming, gripping, claiming, and I let him. I let him take whatever he wanted because no matter how much I hated him, no matter how much I wanted to pretend I could live without him, the truth was simple.

I couldn’t.

And that terrified me more than anything.

North tore his mouth from mine, his breath heavy against my lips. “You still want me to leave?”

I should’ve said yes. I should’ve pushed him off and told him to get the hell out of my life. But instead, I whispered, “I don’t know.”

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