Page 24 of Revenge Puck

He scowls down at me. “Don’t.”

“You’re giving me orders?”

Now he’s the one rolling his eyes, the man standing before me in a towel. “Don’t turn this into something it isn’t.”

I tilt my head. “You’re the one who brought your sister into it.”

“That was a warning.”

“You’re actuallywarningme?”

“Stay away from her. She’s…Juliette isn’t like the women we’re used to.”

Juliette.

It sounds delicate and has my brain repeating it on a loop, testing it out. Soft. Pretty. Romantic.

It suits her.

“Stay away from her?” I give him a thin smile.

He studies my face like he’s trying to decode the thoughts running through my mind, but he won’t. Couldn’t possibly. I hadmy mouth on his sister—I know how sweet shereallyis, from head to toe.

“She sure is pretty.” I pull a clean shirt from my locker, unhurried, letting the silence stretch. “She has this innocent look about her. Like she believes most people mean well, when they’re actually full of bullshit.” I pause. “Juliette.”

“Keep my sister’s name out of your mouth. You don’t know a goddamn thing about her.”

I don’t bother looking at him. “Sure I do.”

He shakes his head.

I chuckle at the Adam’s apple bopping in his throat. “You know what I’ve discovered I’m attracted to these days?” I sigh loudly. “Bows. And girls who wear bows in their hair. The satin ones.”

He takes a step toward me. “What did you say to me?”

I turn slowly. “Bows.”

His hands curl into fists. “How would you know she wears those?”

I raise my brows. Stare. Hold his glare long enough that his imagination does all the work for me.

Then I shrug. “Guess I just like bows.”

I lower my gaze in time to see his fists clench at his sides. Dude wants to tear me apart and turn me into the issue here? Let him try.

He took something from me.

I’m going to take something back.

Snorting, I stand, tugging on a pair of sweatpants, presenting him with my ass while I do it. “You should walk away now. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re obsessed with me.”

He stays rooted to the floor.

I can feel him seething—heat and fury and unfinished business pressed into the air behind my shoulders.

He’s calculating.

We both are.