Page 151 of Heartless Stepbrother
His gaze wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t kind.
It was the type of gaze that stripped, assessed, dismantled. The kind that could read the tiny betrayals in the way my chest rose too fast, or how my tongue pressed against the back of my teeth to keep my breath steady.
Under the moon, he looked almost unreal.
Too sharp for this world.
Too composed.
Too dangerous.
Like he did on the beach when we met for the first time.
I swallowed. “You’re imagining things.”
He stepped closer.
Not touching.
He never touched unless he wanted to ruin something.
His presence alone pressed against me like a slow, calculated hand.
“I don’t imagine things,” he murmured. “I observe. I measure. I remember.”
My stomach knotted.
He tipped his head a fraction, studying me as though he could feel the lie radiating from my skin. The waves hissed behind us, dragging foam across the sand like a warning or a prayer.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Why did you follow me when every girl behind you was ready to drag me into the ocean by my throat?”
My breath trembled. “Because you asked.”
His lips curved.
Not sweetly.
Not kindly.
But with the kind of slow satisfaction that made heat crawl down my spine.
“You think I asked.” His voice was soft, almost thoughtful. “But the truth is… you wanted to follow me.”
My cheeks sparked hot. “Riley—“
“You wanted to be alone with me.”
He said it simply, like he was stating the tide existed.
“You like the danger of it. The what if of it. You like that no one else gets under your skin the way I do.”
“That’s not true.”
He stepped closer again.
We were inches apart now.
