Page 17 of Twisted Steel

“No,” Milo says carefully.“Your life was scheduled.That’s not the same.”

I hate him a little.Mostly because he is right.

I turn toward my building.“Fine.I’m going upstairs.”

Steel moves with me, and I stop.He stops too.

“No,” I say flatly, glaring up at him.

His eyes narrow.“No?”

“You aren’t coming into my apartment.”

“You don’t know if it’s clear.”

“I know if I let you in, I’ll never get the smell of testosterone and poor choices out of my curtains.”

Milo coughs to hide his laughter.

Steel looks over my shoulder at the building entrance.“I’ll check it.Then I’ll leave.”

“I can call the police.”

“You could.”

“You don’t sound worried.”

“I’m not.”

I step closer, not much, just enough to make a point I probably shouldn’t be making with a man who looks like he can bend steel bars with one hand.

“Listen to me very carefully, Marcus.”His eyes sharpen at the sound of his legal name.“I don’t care what you do for your club.I don’t care how many men jump when you grunt.I am not yours to move around.I am not one of your prospects, or your club girls, or your problems.You don’t get to appear outside my home and start making decisions for me.”

Steel looks down at me, and for one awful, electric second, I feel every inch of him.His heat.His stillness.The careful way he keeps his hands at his sides.

Then he says, “I know.”Soft, yet rough.Quiet enough to crawl under my skin.

My breath catches, and I hate that too.“So, stop acting like it,” I say.

His gaze drops to my mouth, only for a second, but I see it.And my body, traitorous idiot that it is, reacts.Heat flashes low in my stomach, sudden and unwanted.I am exhausted, scared, angry, and covered in someone else’s bodily fluids.This is not the time for attraction.

There’s no time for attraction to Marcus Holt.Ever.

“Harper,” Milo says, his voice too gentle.

I step back.“Fine.You can check the apartment.Don’t touch my things.Don’t comment on my laundry.Don’t murder anyone unless necessary.”

Steel’s mouth twitches.It’s almost nothing, but it twists my insides anyway.

“Understood,” he says.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

We cross the street together, and I think that’s what bothers me most.How naturally my body adjusts to his presence.Steel walks slightly behind me, not crowding, not guiding, just there.A hulking wall of threat at my back.

Milo walks on my other side, whispering, “This is how horror movies start,” and I pretend not to agree.