Love Letters From Hell

15 | stunts

"Seems like someone needs a cold shower," observes Herrera. His dark eyes dance to Zahed and her lips are pulled into a tight scowl. "If you wanna join him for that," he tells her, fingers dropping to tap at the door handle meaningfully, "I think you should maybe lock the door this time."

Mira steps forward sharply. Herrera lifts a bemused brow at her, daring her. Fool.

"Herrera," I snap, tilting my head to the doorway, "shut the fuck up."

Of course, he does no such thing. Grinning like a fiend, Raf meets my deathly look and states, "Charles is here. That's what I came to let you know. If I'd known you'd be preoccupied—,"

"Okay," I snap sharply at him. "Tell Charlie I'll be there. Just give me a second."

His eyes are bright, swinging between us. "Sure, no problem," he says with a shrug. "Don't take too long though. I'll lock the door as I go."

He walks away with a wicked wink and Mira snarls after him. Maybe I won't have to kill him. She'll do it for me.

She's still snarling when the door clicks shut with a meaningful click except now she's snarling down at me.

I sigh, chest rising with the motion. When I stand, her eyes give her away, wandering, tracing the exposed swaths of skin she'd just run her hands all over. I rake a hot hand through my hair, eyes closing. "Can I help you, Zahed?" I ask impatiently, eyes flying back open.

I need her to stop looking at me. Not with those fucking eyes. I'm losing it.

I look back at her. I could always kiss her again. What more damage could I do?

A lot more damage.

But I'd like that.

She'd smiled against my lips as her fingernails raked a path of destruction down my skin. She'd like that too.

When she pulls forward toward me, I think she might've been weighing the odds too, I think she's going to kiss me because she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her again because we're both fucking losing it in this locker room. I close my eyes as the drifting scent of her fills my senses again— rosewater and girly perfume. Her dress had smelled like perfume, fruity and sweet, but her skin, the space right behind her ear, the column of her throat, roses. I inhale a shallow breath of her. But she halts. A breath away. Her breath is warm on my cheeks as she exhales slowly. I reopen my eyes.

Zahed's gaze is half-lidded. I can't help it. My thumb is under her chin, palm curling over her pulse, tilting her gaze up at me. Her eyes open and flash dangerously at me at this. I know I'm playing with fire. I can see it in the glare.

I don't drop my hand though, leaning forward, to that wicked space at her ear that smells like roses. A steady inhale then I ask, "Can I help you, Emira?"

I fully expect the hands that comes crashing at my chest. Zahed pushes me away harshly and flies a good distance away from me, glaring as she goes. She knows she's playing with fire too. The difference is she doesn't like to be burnt.

My lips quirk. After that shocker of a kiss, I'm amused by her doing something so predictable.

At my smile, her glare grows hotter. "Fuck off, Aryan. I'm not joining you for shit."