Page 24 of Her Name in Red
He stalks past my hiding spot, close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to.
Close enough to see the muscles in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth.
“Looking for me?” I step out just as he passes, and he whirls around so fast he nearly loses his balance.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hisses, eyes wide. “How do you do that?”
“Maybe you're just not as observant as you think you are.”
I grip his wrist and pull him into the alcove with me, like I'm reeling in a fish that's already hooked. His body crashes against mine. He’s all hard muscles and warm skin. The space is so tight that we're practically one person—his chest pressed against mine, his breath hot on my face. One of his legs slides between mine, a position that starts as accidental but could turn into something else in one move.
I keep my face carefully blank, even as heat pools low in my belly. I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing what he does to me. That's not how this works.
His eyes are fixed on me, pupils dilated so wide there's just a thin ring of hazel around the black. I can see the tiny flecks of gold in them, the way his lashes are darker at the roots. Details I shouldn't notice, shouldn't care about.
“You're always running away from me,” he says, voice rough. His hands find their way to my waist, fingers digging in just enough to let me know he doesn't want me slipping away again. “Every fucking time. You drop these little bombs and then vanish.”
I lift my chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Maybe I like watching you chase me.”
“This isn't a game, Maren.” His voice drops lower, a dangerous edge to it.
I let my eyes drift over his face, taking in the stubble on his jaw, the tiny scar above his eyebrow from a hockey injury last season.
“You don't understand what you're getting yourself into,” I tell him, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with one blood-red fingernail. His stubble is rough against my skin. “You think you want me, but trust me, you don't.”
“Stop telling me what I want,” he growls, leaning in closer. His thigh presses more firmly between my legs, and the sudden pressure makes my breath catch. He notices, because of course he does—and a smug look crosses his face.
I feel him everywhere, in every nerve ending and every shuttered part of me that I’ve tried to lock away. The part that's not afraid of coming undone.
“Christ, Maren,” he breathes. He's pissed, but there's something else there too. Something raw and needy that makes me dizzy.
“You look like you could use a drink,” I say, ignoring the way my body responds to every inch of contact between us. “Or ten.”
His hands clamp down harder on my waist. A warning. “Not until you tell me what the hell you're doing.”
“Right now?” I tilt my head, letting my hair fall over one eye. “I'd say I'm winning. When did you get so desperate for a girl's attention, Rhodes?”
His jaw tightens again, muscles working beneath the skin. It's a beautiful thing to watch, almost hypnotic in its intensity.
“When did you get so broken?” he shoots back.
I could hate him for that, but hate requires too much energy. And if he really knew how broken I am—how broken he's going to be by the time I'm done—he'd run as far from me as he could get.
“You should be running,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside. “Take the hint.”
“Not happening.” His grip tightens, defiant. “You don't get to do this—just fuck with my head without any consequences.”
“Consequences?” I laugh, low and mocking. “Tell me what those are like.”
He narrows his eyes at me, the muscles in his arms taut where he pins me against the wall. It's a standoff, both of us are too stubborn to back down. Too fucked up to let go.
His hand hovers near my throat, shaking from the effort it takes not to close the gap. I know he wants to grip it, feel the frantic pulse under his palm, but he’s afraid. Afraid of breaking me more than I'm already broken.
I smile, shifting so my neck presses against his skin. Egging him on. Daring him.
“Do it,” I taunt, my breath warm against his ear. “You're scared to hurt me? Or are you scared you won't?”
He lets out a ragged breath, and for a moment I think he's going to pull away. Go back to chasing and begging and demanding answers I'll never give him.
