Page 133 of Things We Hide from the Light
“I’ll see you around,” I said to Nolan, pointedly ignoring Nash.
I made it all the way to the water fountain before I again felt the dark presence of Chief Nashhole. “You can’t ignore me forever,” he said, stepping in front of me. I stopped short so as not to plow into his sweaty chest. I couldn’t afford the fantasies.
“I don’t have to ignore you forever,” I said sweetly. “Once I wrap this investigation, we’ll never have to see each other again.”
“What about the wedding?”
Crap.The wedding.
“I can’t speak for you, but I’m an adult. Just because the sight of you makes me want to hit you in the face with a folding chair doesn’t mean I can’t pretend to tolerate you for one day.”
He bared his teeth and I wondered if I imagined the low, dangerous growl. “You just keep pushing my buttons.”
“And you just keep pissing me off.” The stare down lasted a good thirty seconds before I finally asked, “What happened to your face?”
“It ran into my fists. Repeatedly,” Knox said as he stomped past us on his way to the water fountain.
“Seriously? When are you two gonna outgrow that?”
“Never,” they said together.
I didn’t know which one of us had edged closer, but Nash and I were now standing toe-to-toe. I was close enough to reach out and trail my fingers over his sweaty torso, a thought that should have been revolting. But of course it wasn’t. I was starting to think there was something very, very wrong with me.
“We need to talk,” Nash said. His glare was giving me a sunburn.
“Sorry, Chief. I’m all talked out. You’re just going to have to find someone else to piss off.”
“Goddammit, Angelina.”
This time I very definitely didnotimagine the growl. Or the hot, hard hand that splayed across my stomach and backed me into the dark, empty studio. It smelled like sweat and industrial disinfectant.
“What are you doing?” I hissed as he shut the door behind him and stood in front of it.
There were weapons in here, five-pound dumbbells and large exercise balls. Both could be bounced off thick skulls.
“Stop giving me the cold shoulder,” he ordered.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but it sure as hell hadn’t beenthat. I was definitely going for the dumbbells.
Temper burned like fire under my skin. “You have two options. Cold shoulder or hellfire. And let me tell you, Chief, I would beso happyif you chose hellfire.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” he demanded. “You take advantage of my trust, betray me, and I’m just supposed to be fine with it?”
This time, it was me who closed the distance between us. “Are you even listening to yourself? I took advantage of you? I betrayed you? We barely know each other. Certainly not well enough for me to do either of those things. And much as it pains me to admit, you’re not dumb enough to let someone you just met take advantage of you. You came with that baggage packed and you were itching to unload it on me. Well, guess what, assface? I was more honest with you than I had been with anybody and you made me immediately regret it.”
I slapped a hand to his sweaty chest and gave a shove. He didn’t budge. Not even an inch. But his hand clamped over my wrist and then he was yanking me into him.
He was a wall of heat and muscle and anger. My own fury melded with his and everything went molten inside me.
“Ihatehow much I still want to be near you.” His voice was a low, angry rasp, like the bite of gravel on bare feet. Just what every girl dreamed of hearing.
“AndIhate that I ever opened up to you,” I hissed.
It was the truth. I hated that I’d shared any part of myself with him. That he now owned a piece of my story. One that I hadn’t trusted anyone with in a very long time. I hated that as angry as I was, as hurt as I was, I still just wanted him to touch me. It was like my lactose-intolerant roommate in college who had a toxic relationship with cheesecake.
We were both panting, breathing the same air, inhaling the same anger, fueling the same blaze. The music and cacophony of gym sounds seemed so far away.
I wanted to punch him. To kiss him. To bite his lip until he lost control.
