Page 4 of Fight or Flight
“Shut up.”
He grins. “Did I strike a nerve?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Or what?” He slips his hands back in his pockets. “Are you going to push me again?” He tilts his head to the side and studies me for a beat. “Or maybe you want to take a swing and finish what you started during Hell Week.”
“WhatIstarted?” I splutter.
He nods.
“I didn’t start anything.” I squeeze my hands so tight my knuckles crack.
“Really? Because I remember you being the one to throw the first punch. And the second one.” He blinks innocently at me. “So unless my memories are wrong,youstarted it.”
He isn’t wrong. I was the first one to swing, and I also threw a second punch before he retaliated, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take responsibility for the fight. It never would have happened if he hadn’t pushed me to the point where shutting him up with my fists was my best option.
“Go ahead.” He rocks back and forth on his feet a few times in a casual move that somehow makes him look both bored and condescending at the same time.
“Go ahead?” I repeat stupidly. What the fuck is he talking about?
“Yeah, go ahead.” He taps one cheek with his hand, then slips it back in his pocket. “Have a freebie.”
I blink at him a few times as my brain sort of short-circuits. What the actual fuck is happening? How did we go from me shoving him away to him telling me to take a free swing at him?
“Come on,” he goads. “You know you want to. Imagine how good it’ll feel to take whatever the fuck is going on with you out on me.” His grin goes feral. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t want to do it? That you haven’t dreamed about this moment?”
“Fuck. You.”
He laughs. “That wasn’t a no.”
My arm feels heavy as I become hyperaware of the fact that my fist is literally locked and loaded and ready to do exactly what he’s trying to goad me into, and I have to fight the urge to give him exactly what he’s asking for.
He flicks his gaze to my hand, like he knows how close I am to letting go and knocking him the fuck out. “Come on, Shaney.”
My hackles rise even higher at the stupid nickname. I’ve always hated being called Shaney, and Jace is literally the only person on the planet who still does it because he knows how much it pisses me off.
“When are you going to have another chance like this?” He rakes his gaze up and down my body. “You know you want to.”
Something about the look in his eyes makes me pause. There’s humor in it, but there’s also something else I can’t place. It’s dark and wild and chaotic like him, but there’s an undertone of heat to it that I can’t stop from zeroing in on.
Jace is a giant flirt, and I’m used to his innuendos and the random sexual comments he likes to throw my way when he’s being a dick, but he’s never looked at me like that before.
I’m so taken aback by the answering flare of heat deep in my belly that I kind of freeze and stare at him like a dumbass.
“Are you buffering?” he asks with a smirky smile that sends another flare of heat through me. “Or maybe you’re in power-saving mode?”
I shake off my stupor and glare at him. “Last chance to get the fuck out of here.”
“And what are you going to do if I don’t get the fuck out of here?”
“I’m going to give you exactly what you want,” I say menacingly.
“And what do I want?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with laughter.
“You want me to start something so you can tell everyone that I attacked you.”
He snickers. “Yeah, that’s not what I want. Not even close.”
