Page 12 of Tangled Desires

“I think it’s cute!” Isla murmurs with a grin.

“It really isn’t.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Xavier announces.

“Fantastic.” I sink deeper into the cushions, blowing out a breath. The car park flashes in my head—the grind of his thigh, his grip, the goddamnnerveof him to be so good at everything he does. My thighs clench involuntarily, and I curse under my breath. No. Not tonight. That was a mistake. A weak, needy moment. Except his mouth, his cocky-as-hell smirk—they’ve been looping in my brain like a dirty playlist I can’t turn off.

“‘Be here soon,’ my ass,” I grumble, drumming my fingers on the counter. “We could’ve ordered, eaten, and had a nap by now.” Isla snorts beside me, far too entertained for someone who should be equally annoyed. Xavier’s in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards, pretending he’s immune to the tension.

“Should’ve just ordered for them,” Isla says, reading my mind.

“Ladies,” Xavier cuts in, sliding a glass of wine my way. “The pizza will be here in no time. Settle your nerves.” I narrow my eyes, but wine is wine, and my patience is long gone.

“Cheers,” I mutter.

Isla suddenly places Callie into my arms like she’s handing over a bag of groceries. “Hold her for me while I pee.”

“Wait—what?!” My arms flail slightly as I clutch the baby, stiff as a damn board. “You can’t just—”

“You’re fine. She’ll be fine,” Isla says, grinning before disappearing down the hall.

Callie stares up at me, wide-eyed and blissfully unaware of my sheer incompetence. Her tiny fingers twitch against the blanket, and she’s so small she might blow away with a sneeze. I awkwardly rock her, like I’ve seen people do in movies, praying she doesn’t start screaming.

“She’s got your eyes,” I mumble to Xavier, marvelling at her resemblance to him.

“And Isla’s temperament,” he says, smirking. “Thank God for that.”

Isla returns, scooping Callie back from me. “See? A natural.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I’ll be signing up for babysitting duties anytime soon.”

The front door slams open, and in saunters Harrison, loud as ever, with Michael trailing behind him carrying pizza. “Who’s hungry?” Harrison announces, smacking his hands together. White t-shirt, distressed jeans, tattoos, and that bloody backward cap—he looks like a damn poster boy for trouble. My jaw clenches as his muscles flex with every move, the inked designs drawing the eye despite my best efforts to look anywhere else.

I hate how my pulse quickens, how my breath catches in my throat. God, I just hate myself sometimes.

“Me!” Isla chirps, settling Callie into her bouncer, the smell of pizza wafting in like salvation.

“About time,” Xavier teases, giving Harrison a shove. “Imogen was ready to riot.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Harrison shoots back, his smirk locking onto me like a heat-seeking missile.

“You think you’re funny?” Arms crossed, brow arched, the words snap out before I can stop them.

“Always,” he fires back with a wink, snagging a slice. I grab my supreme—extra pineapple, obviously—while Michael eyes it with a grimace.

“How do people eat that?” he asks, cracking open a box loaded with an unhealthy amount of anchovies. It’s literally dry, salty fish.

I nearly gag. “You’re judging me withthat?”

He chuckles. “Touché, Immy.”

“Oh, he’s got you saying that now, too?” My glare flicks to Harrison, who’s grinning.

“Catches on quick,” Harrison says with a wink.

The lounge smells like cheesy heaven as we load our plates. I claim the two-seater—finally a bit of space. Or not. The otherspile onto the three-seater, leaving exactly one seat free. Right next to me. Of course. Harrison parks himself next to me, and his thigh brushes mine as he settles, with a pizza box balanced effortlessly on his lap. The heat radiating off him, the faint scent of cologne mixed with grease—yeah, he’s doing it on purpose. I bite into my slice, keeping my eyes firmly on anything that isn’t his stupid smirk. Being this close to him, feeling the heat radiate from his body, makes it so fucking hard to keep my composure. You know what? Fuck him. If he’s waiting for me to react, he’ll be waiting all night. Probably grinning the whole damn time, too.

“Alright, what movie are we watching?” Isla scrolls through the options on the TV, chewing her bottom lip like she’s defusing a bomb.