Wicked Love | √

Fourteen

He coughs a couple times and runs his hand over his ribs with a wince before he stands up straight. "A lot," he admits with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

Relief slams into me as I get my pulse under control but in seconds a darker emotion inflames me. "Seriously I thought I was going to die," I yell at him heatedly.

"Then we need to work on your self defense cause that was pathetic."

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. "Pathetic? Really? How's your ribs?" I ask, calling him out knowing I hit him hard enough to bruise the bone.

"One hit proves nothing," he counters.

"Whatever. Seriously, what the hell do you want?" I ask him as I cross my arms and try to understand the massive swell of conflicting emotions racing through me. I'm beyond angry at what he just did. I am still embarrassed by my actions at my brother's party. But even more than all of that, seeing him after avoiding him for the past week has my heart aching at how wickedly beautiful he is.

"To talk to you," he answers. "But you've made that more than a little difficult," he growls, obviously just as frustrated with me as I am with him.

All the tension from the night of Aiden's party pours into the room and I'm almost afraid to move knowing I might get electrocuted from the energy radiating from between us at this moment.

I feel sparks coat my skin and I'm all too aware how in the presence of Preston Rothwell those small sparks can grow into a full fledged flame that devours us both in seconds.

"I've been busy," I tell him but as soon as the lame excuse leaves me I want to cringe because I know he can see right through it.

He takes a purposeful step towards me as heat swirls in the air. "You mean embarrassed," he counters, calling me out and refusing to take my bullshit excuse.

"You don't know shit. Stop acting like you know me Preston," I shout at him with aggravation clear on my tongue.

"We've already been over this! I do know you and don't think you can hide and avoid me and take the easy way out. We don't do easy Jameson," he grits out the last few words through a clenched jaw as his eyes blaze with a fire so dark it has me gasping for breath in the small room.

My head shakes faintly in an attempt to push some space between us. "What do you mean we? We aren't anything Preston so why do you even care? Just leave me the hell alone."

"We are far from nothing and you fucking know it so don't push me away. Not now. Not ever," he tells me. His words making my heart beat faster. "Plus I've been called worse. Much worse. So believe me when I say you're going to have to do a lot more to get me to back down from this, from you."

"Whatever Preston—" I start but he doesn't let me finish.

"Jameson." He says my name with such authority it causes my knees to shake. He grabs onto my bag and drags it free from my arm until it lands on the floor with a thud, stripping me free of it. Then he grabs both of my wrists in his large hands and pulls me towards him. He eyes me and studies me with such intensity I can't help but finally snap.

I yank out of his hold hating the way his skin scorches mine. Hating the way no matter where he lingers or touches I can feel him all over me. "You pulled away from me when I tried to kiss you," I blurt without hesitation. I wish I could hold my emotions back but seeing him so close in the flesh after my drunken attempts to kiss him a week ago has me riled up so hard I feel like I might combust.

Preston's dark eyes narrow in on me. "You were drunk," he trails with furrowed brows, my words clearly catching him by surprise which is not so easily done.