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“I don’t,” he promised. “I’m just not used to owing anyone anything.”
“Neither am I,” I assured him. I stepped closer to him. “Can we make a deal?”
“When a witch asks that, I feel like I should say no.”
He grinned, and, when I slapped his arm, he merely laughed.
“I’m serious. Let’s vow to forget about any debts between us. They cancel each other out—it’s algebra.”
“Eighth-grade-math,” he agreed.
I smiled at him, but the moment was interrupted by Arion’s loud meows. He scratched impatiently at my door.
“I guess this is good night,” he said and winked. “Frey.”
I rolled my eyes and, before he could walk away, I caught him by his sleeve.
“My name is Frey-uh,” I corrected. “That idiot is just too lazy to add the extra syllable.”
“Hmm,” Walker mused. We stood only half a foot apart. “You sure smiled pretty at him when he said it.”
“You think I have a pretty smile?” I crooned. He flushed but didn’t break my stare.
“So what if I do?” he challenged.
“What are you going to do about it?” I shot back.
I couldn’t believe the words escaped my mouth and neither could Walker, judging by his dropped jaw. He noticed where my gaze had fallen and quickly snapped his mouth shut.
“You’re very annoying,” he quipped.
I scoffed and fought to hide the odd sense of disappointment that bloomed in my chest.
“Says you.”
“Very mature.”
“You’re the one who started the insults,” I reminded him. “Now, I’m not in much of a mood to be insulted.”
I turned to leave.
Walker sighed. “Freya, wait.”
He grabbed my arm at the same time that I spun to face him, and, for once, I was the one knocked off-balance. I stumbled forward, and Walker caught me. His arms, which I’d never noticed were quite impressive, cradled me. Our chests brushed, and our eyes locked. As Walker’s gaze drifted to my lips, heat flooded my body.
Words left me and Walker too, because, the next moment, he kissed me.
His hands cradled my head, and I grabbed his arms. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t the out-of-control kisses Ryder offered either. His lips explored mine slowly but passionately, like he wanted to get to know me from just one kiss.
I wanted to know him too.
He pressed into me, until my back was against the wall, and the front line of his body pressed against mine. I tugged his warmth, his utter solidness, closer. Butterflies fluttered through my core, and I couldn’t recall ever feeling quite so girly. This wasn’t some sexual transaction—it was a claiming. It was a desire deeper than the heat of his hands as they traveled down my body. It was more overwhelming than our ragged breaths in the quiet hall. It was more intense than his grip on my hips.
“Freya,” he whispered between kisses.
His voice was lower and huskier than I’d ever heard it. My body grew hotter and hotter. I reached behind me to open the door to my room. My fingers brushed the handle.
“I brought some extra towels in case–”
