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“I’ll get that,” I told him as I approached.

“It’s fine.”

“I said I’d get it.”

“Would it kill you to not fight me on one single thing, Reeves?” he snapped, then sucked in a hard breath. A line of red appeared across his finger, and he dropped the broken piece of plate he’d been holding. He stuck the wound in his mouth and scowled at me.

“I’ll get you a bandage.”

“I’ve got some downstairs.” He stood and turned for the exit.

“Now who’s being difficult?”

He paused at the door to glance over his shoulder. “I think it’s best if I go,” he said. He held my gaze for a moment and when I said nothing, he released a soft scoff and let himself out.

I listened to the snick of the latch behind him and his fading footsteps beyond. I felt wrung out and confused. Most of all, I felt disappointed. But I didn’t know if it was because I’d almost given into the urge to kiss him—or because I hadn’t actually gotten the chance to do it.

FIFTEEN

SEBASTIAN

Safe in my apartment, I stalked to the kitchen where I’d stashed the bandages. By the time I got one out, my whole left palm was smeared with blood. I cleaned myself up and bandaged the small cut, surprised it had bled as much as it had.

My hands were shaking.

Impossible, infuriating woman. She’d jumped away from me like I’d burned her. That pissed me off. We were on opposite sides of this battle, but it didn’t mean I was Lucifer himself. Hell, I was just trying to do right by my family, but did Charlie Reeves want to know about it? No. She was too busy sneering at me like I’d come to town just to make her life difficult.

She was the one who was unreasonable. She was the one who was happy to see her precious town die a slow, agonizing death when there were opportunities available to inject a little life into the place.

And I’d almost kissed her. I’d gotten myself twisted up somehow. Her auburn hair, those pouty lips, the memory of her bare ass on display on my kitchen table with those dimples on either side of her spine, perfect thumbprints for me to press into…

I leaned against the kitchen counter and pressed the heels of my hands in my eyes until stars exploded against my lids, then dragged in a long breath and dropped my hands.

What the hell was wrong with me? She was a distraction.

It was for the best that Albert interrupted us—I knew it was. I couldn’t get involved with anyone, especially not the one person who could ruin all my plans.

I just wished my body got the memo. Blood still thrummed through my veins. My cock pulsed behind the zipper of my pants, hard as stone, as it had been from the moment my hand slid over her waist.

My anger wasn’t helping. I was keyed up, and I didn’t know if I was mad or horny or both. I just knew I wanted her.

But no. I didn’t actually want her. I wasn’t a fucking idiot. This was just…proximity. She was just there, that was all. A beautiful woman elbowing her way into my life, and I hadn’t had sex in a while. It was only natural that I’d react to her physically.

Yeah. That was it. Replace her with any other curvy little minx and I’d be having the exact same reaction. Maybe I had a thing for annoying, opinionated redheads.

It wasn’t the fact that every time her eyes flashed, I got a little thrill in my gut. Or how whenever I heard the ceiling creak with her footsteps, I wondered if she’d drop in for another visit. Or the fact that for a moment, I’d been almost certain she wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss her.

I pressed my palm against my crotch. My cock ached something fierce. I blamed her for that too.

“Fuck it,” I said on an exhale, and I unzipped my pants. Something had to give, and the easiest way for me to calm myself down was very easy to achieve. I wrapped my hand around my shaft and gave the tip a squeeze as a sharp exhale left my lips.

Just rub one out and then get some work done. That’s all I had to do. Get rid of this excess energy, and everything would go back to normal. This was just a physiological reaction to sexual stimuli. I could deal with this and move on.

Except when my hand started working my cock, it was Charlie that filled my mind. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the thought of her away. She was off-limits. She wasn’t even in the universe of women I’d want to date. She was annoying, rude, self-righteous, and wrong.

But when my eyes landed on the kitchen table, I saw the bandage wrapper I’d used to cover the cut on my hand. And it made me think about the last time I’d had my first-aid supplies out, when a naked woman laid herself across my table and let me have my way with her.

I fought it. I fought the desire to think of her, to imagine her, to want her.

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