Page 58 of Triple Play
“Careful, Hart.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll leave.”
“So leave.”
He doesn’t move. Just stares at me with those eyes that see too much.
“What do you want from me?” His voice is low now. Dangerous.
“Nothing. I want nothing from you.”
“Liar.”
The word hits like a slap.
“Fuck you, Grant.”
“You want to.” He says it so quietly I almost miss it. “You still want to.”
My face goes hot. “Your ego is astounding.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
I can’t. We both know it.
He stands abruptly. The movement is predatory. Purposeful.
Then he’s on my side of the coffee table, towering over me. Looking down with an expression that’s half fury, half something else entirely.
He lifts his hand. For one terrible second, I think he’s going to touch me. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard it hurts.
His phone buzzes.
He doesn’t reach for it. Just keeps looking at me like I’m the only thing in the room.
It buzzes again.
“Your date’s calling,” I say. My voice sounds wrong. Too breathless.
“Not my date.”
“Right. Your distraction.”
“Yeah.” His voice drops even lower. “My distraction.”
“From what?”
He leans down. One hand braces on the couch beside my head. The other on the armrest. Caging me in.
I should push him away. Should tell him to back off.
I don’t move.
“From you.”
The confession lands like a bomb.
