Page 258 of Fatality

I’m the owner, obviously I can enter my own fucking home.

Stupid technology.

I toss my boots into the loft, toss my comm on the furniture at the entrance and walk to my open kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water without telling my apartment to turn the lights on.

I have two options—either I turn them on manually or use a voice command. But after spending twelve hours under harsh lights, the darkness doesn't seem so bad.

I walk to my couch and slump on it face first, grunting.

I hit something hard and not my couch at all.

I pat with my free hand and feel warmth and… a nose?

“What the hell?!” I hurry to my feet.

Ready to throw hands, I brace myself.

“Took you long enough.”

This tone, this voice, I know it.

And I forgot he was here and broke in—again.

“E-Evren?!” I relax, but not completely. “You could've turned on the damn lights! You're creepy, sitting in the dark like this!”

He chuckles, and in the darkness, it somehow sounds even creepier.

“Who else?” He opens his eyes, and the glow in the dark, fixed on me, is creepy. “You didn't turn on the lights either.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Well…” I start, but I have absolutely no argument. “Had a rough day.”

“You ignored me.” His voice turns flat. “I hate being ignored.”

“Get a grip.” I roll my eyes.

I feel his hand fist the fabric of my oversized T-shirt and yank me down onto him.

I let out a little scream of surprise at the sudden movement.

My chest is pressed fully against his, warm and solid.

“I got it.” I see his face coming closer. “What's the program?”

I scoff.

“There is no program, Evren.” I rest my free hand on his fist and try to uncurl his fingers. “I worked all day long. I'm exhausted.”

“So?”

“So, you need to leave.”

“No.”

“I'm not in the mood for your shit.” My voice drops, turning cold.

One of his hands slides and cups my ass cheek.