Page 16 of Make Me Yours
I fucking hate seeing her this upset.
Especially over that asshole.
He’s not worth it.
The fact that he cheated on Lilah blows my mind.
How could any man even look in another woman’s direction if Lilah Monroebelonged to him?
It just proves my point that he was never worthy of her in the first place. He never treated her the way he should have. This girl deserves to be pampered and adored. Before I can think better of it, I swallow up the space between us and reach out, tugging her into my arms. As soon as they’re banded around her, she melts against me.
I rest my chin on the top of her head. “Everything will be all right. I promise.”
She hesitates for a second before her muscles loosen. “I know. It just…”
“Hurts,” I finish for her.
“Yeah. I really didn’t expect it. I never thought Devon was the kind of guy who would sneak around behind my back. All it does is make me question my own judgment, you know?”
For just a heartbeat, I pull her even closer. What I really want to do is hunt the bastard down who hurt her and make him feel just a fraction of the pain he caused a woman who deserved so much more.
Even though the last thing I want to do is set her free, I force my arms to drop and take a step in retreat. “Take your bath, and I’ll figure out dinner.” I pat my belly. “I’m famished.”
Some of the sadness fades as she smirks. “What else is new? You’re always hungry. How you manage to keep your girlish figure, I’ll never know.”
I lift a brow and tease, “So you’ve been checking out my figure, huh?”
A flush creeps into her cheeks as she looks away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The words land sharper than I expect.
And yet, I just smile through it like I always do, even as something constricts inside me. Because no matter how many times I tell myself to move on, it’s clear she only sees me as a friend.
Maybe I really am a glutton for punishment. Maybe somepart of me would rather stay close and secretly pine for her than walk away from the only woman I’ve ever loved.
I clear my throat, needing to pick up the tattered pieces of my ego and get the hell out of here. “Take as much time as you need. When you’re ready to eat, the food will be waiting.”
“Thanks again, Steele. You’re a good friend.”
And the hits just keep coming.
After ten years, maybe it’s not possible to find my way out of the friend zone.
I disappear into the kitchen to figure out what can be rustled up.
Thirty minutes later, Lilah walks out of the bedroom looking a hell of a lot more relaxed than when she walked into the penthouse. Steam clings to her skin in tiny droplets, and she’s wearing the gray Western Wildcats hockey T-shirt I laid out for her since she doesn’t have a change of clothes. It’s a few sizes too big, hanging off one shoulder as the frayed hem brushes against her thighs.
She tugs at the edge of the worn material. “The sweatpants you left were way too big and kept falling down.”
Well, fuck me.
Not wanting to pop wood, I swallow hard before turning back to the kitchen counter. “Should I grab something else for you?”
“Nah.” There’s a beat of silence before she adds, “As long as you’re good with it.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I murmur. “I can crank up the heat if you get cold.”
“I’m fine,” she says.
