Page 51 of Storm's Deliverance

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, poor Drix. What a tragedy for you.”

His grin widens. “BB, that was genuinely the hardest decision I’ve ever made.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

He shakes his head as he moves around the breakfast bar. “No.” His voice softens slightly. “I’m serious.”

Something in his expression makes me pause. The teasing has vanished, and the playfulness fades. Suddenly he’s just... Drix. Raw, honest, and dangerous.

He places our plates on the counter before resting his palms against the surface. “I told you I’d help you through it. Help youfind yourself again.” I swallow as his eyes hold mine. “And last night, while you were asleep...” He exhales slowly. “I realised I can’t do this anymore.”

My pulse stutters. “Drix…”

“I can’t be your friend anymore.” The words hit me like a punch. His gaze doesn’t waver. “I’m done pretending that’s enough.” The kitchen suddenly feels far too small, far too warm. “You are mine, BB.” The certainty in his voice steals my breath. “You always have been.” My stomach flips.

Part of me wants to launch myself at him. The other part wants to throw my plate directly at his head. Possibly both. Simultaneously.

His lips twitch as if he can see every conflicting thought racing through my mind.

“I hate that look.”

“You haven’t even heard what I’m thinking,” I counter.

“I don’t need to,” he says with such arrogance.

I pick up my fork. “Then enlighten me.”

“You want to kiss me,” he states. I stab a pancake. “You want to throw that fork at me.” I stab harder. “And you’re debating which one would be more satisfying.”

I hate that he’s right. The smug asshole knows it, too. His grin grows.

“I am not easy to love,” I mutter.

“No.” The answer comes instantly. No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just cockiness.

Something in my chest squeezes painfully.

His expression softens. “But you’re worth it.”

Damn him. Damn him for saying things like that, and damn him for meaning them. The silence stretches, heavy and charged. Then his eyes darken.

“You also seem to think I don’t want you; all of you.”

I lift my chin. “Maybe I don’t want you.” I shrug

A slow smile spreads across his face, and it’s a smile that immediately puts me on alert. Predator. That’s what he looks like. A predator who has spotted prey pretending it isn’t cornered.

He rounds the breakfast bar, slowly, deliberately. My pulse picks up, but I refuse to move. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can feel his warmth. Close enough that I catch the scent of soap and coffee and him.

“You’re lying,” he challenges.

“I’m not!” I huff.

His eyebrow rises. “BB.”

“I’m not,” I repeat.

“You are,” he presses.