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“Never said it was.” His voice drops, going serious. “But you can’t stand there and tell me you’re not interested.”

I scoff, stepping back. “This is all wrong. I’m not your type, Eli.”

He steps forward, closing the gap between us. “Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that if I slipped my hand between your legs right now, princess,I would find you fuckingdripping for me.”

My breath hitches. His gaze is heavy, intense, like he’s stripping me bare with his eyes.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the heat spreading through me. “Just give me my book. I’m leaving.”

For a second, he doesn’t move, just stares at me like he’s trying to figure me out. Then he nods, walking to the couch to grab my book.

He hands it to me, but before I can turn away, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You can come back anytime, Sienna.”

I don’t respond, don’t trust myself to speak. I clutch the book to my chest and head for the elevator.

As the doors close, I lean against the wall, my heart racing.

I’ve never wanted someone like this before. Never.

And the worst part?

A tiny, treacherous part of me wishes I would stay and let him ruin me.

Chapter 8

I’ve only been back from London a few hours, but I’m already plastered. Not the kind of buzz that’s fun. The kind that burns and churns in your stomach, the kind you use to drown out every shitty thought screaming in your head.

Zane’s working on some busted engine, wiping grease off his hands every few minutes while I sit on an overturned bucket and down another beer.

“Coach benched me,” I say, voice slurred.

Zane doesn’t look up. “That’s what happens when you mouth off, dumbass especially after missing practice without a word.”

I snort, tipping the bottle to my lips. “Not why. He’s got a new kid. Fresh meat. Supposed to be good.” I scoff. “Real good.”

Zane finally glances my way, sweat dripping down his temple. “Kid’s probably not wasted half the time either.”

“Fuck off.” I toss the empty bottle toward the trash can and miss.

“Truth hurts, huh?” He leans over the car, twisting something with a wrench. “And why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know, doing something productive? Crying into your fancy-ass London tea about Maya?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s a yes.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I grab another beer from the six-pack on the ground. The sting of Maya leaving still hits too fresh. She was supposed to be my constant. But now she’s gone, and I’m stuck replaying everything I said wrong, every look she gave me that I didn’t catch soon enough.

“Fucking stupid,” I mutter to myself.

“What’s stupid?” Zane asks without looking up.

“Everything.” I take another swig, swiping my arm across my mouth. “Maya. Coach. That goddamn new kid, Eli. My fucking life.”

“Jesus. You’re on a roll tonight.”

I ignore him, the alcohol making my brain race faster than my mouth can keep up. “You know what I should do?”

“Not anything stupid, that’s what.”