Page 45 of The Heart Breaker

“Clothes,” she says dryly.

I scoff under my breath. Such a fucking brat.

“Looks like a belt,” I say, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it out under my boot.

She arches a brow, glancing down as she smooths a hand over the skirt. “Yeah, well, some asshole overpaid for a lap dance so I figured I’d put it to good use.” I scoff, pressing my tongue into my cheek. “Figured it might help me find someone to take home and forget about you.”

Her words piss me off, but I keep my face blank and lift a brow instead. “So you can’t forget about me.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “I didn’t say that,” she fires back.

“Then what are you saying?” My teeth grind. “That you’re gonna fuck one of these guys here?”

She lifts a shoulder and flicks her hair back. “So what if I do? I’m single. I can fuck whoever I want.”

My fists tighten, and I shove my hands into my pockets. “I don’t like games, Aurora.”

She lets out a bitter laugh that digs under my skin. “Are you kidding me?” she says. “You fucked me, practically kicked meout of your room, then dragged some girl onto your lap just to get to me, and now you’re standing here saying you don’t like games?”

“She sat on me,” I say, arching a brow. “I didn’t invite her.”

She scoffs. “Sure.”

Something in me snaps. “Why the fuck do you care?” I shoot back. “We agreed it was a one-time thing. You don’t get to stand here and moan about me being with another girl.”

Her face tightens, a flush creeping up her neck, and Jesus Christ—how does she still look this good when she’s pissed at me?

“Idon’tcare,” she says stiffly, stepping back, already turning away. Her heels click against the concrete, echoing into the yard.

I should let her go. Should let her walk back inside and save myself from this mess I’ve gotten myself into. There are a dozen girls in that house I could take home tonight. I could pick one and prove to myself this thing with her is nothing.

Instead, I blow out an irritated breath and force the words out. “I sent her home.”

She stops mid-step and turns back slowly, blinking at me as if she’s sure she heard that wrong. “What?”

“After you left, I sent her the fuck home. I didn’t touch her.”

A frown pulls between her brows. “Why not?”

Jesus. Is she really going to make me say it?

I look away, my hand curling tighter at my side before I force myself to look back at her. “Because I didn’t want her.”

She goes still, her gaze locking on mine.

I should stop talking. Should shut the fuck up and stop handing her shit she can use against me.

Instead, I hear myself say, “It seems you’re not out of my system just yet.”

The words burn on the way out. I’d take them back if I could, swallow them down and act like I never said a thing, but it’s too late now.

Her lips part and her eyes widen just enough to make something low in my gut pull tight. “You want me.”

“I want to fuck you,” I correct. “Don’t get it twisted, Prescott. I just want you spread open for me on my bed.”

She lifts her brows and lets out this soft little hum, like she’s actually thinking it over, then starts walking toward me until she’s close enough that her perfume hits me. Sweet. Soft. At complete odds with the way she talks to me.

Her fingers slip under the edge of my hoodie, her palms flattening against my skin, and every muscle in my body locks.