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Doesn’t look away.
Her head tilts back.
Her red-stained lips part slightly.
The scent of jasmine perfuses the air surrounding us.
My pulse starts hammering in my ears.
“Rusty,” I say quietly.
Her breath catches.
“Don’t call me that,” she murmurs.
But there’s no real heat behind the words.
“Why not?”
“You lost the right.”
Fair.
And because I want that right back, I don’t move away.
Instead, I reach out slowly, giving her every chance in the world to stop me.
My hand brushes a loose curl away from her cheek.
I cup my hand around her neck, and I tug on it until she’s standing right in front of me.
Her skin is warm beneath my fingers.
She shivers—fucking shivers.
And now my cock is so hard I could pound nails with it.
Three years and she still reacts to me like that.
“You should hate me,” I say quietly.
“Some days I do.”
“And the other days?”
She swallows.
Her voice drops to almost nothing.
“The other days are worse.”
“Why?”
“Because on those days I forget how you left me, and I-I still care, Alessio.”
My chest tightens.
Because I know exactly what she means.
