Wrong For Me

His brows pull into a deep frown, and he stares at me, lowering himself onto the bed in a dangerously slow manner.

“Someone was in the house last night.”

“What the fuck do you mean, someone was in the house last night? You were in the house last night … with Rowan.”

A small scoff leaves me, and I look away. “Right.”

“Oakley.” His voice is a deep timbre, coming from within his chest. Demanding. Terrifying. “Look. At. Me.”

Tears fall faster now, but I don’t even care. I show him what he inadvertently caused. It’s not fair to blame him, but if not him, then who?

“Where’s Rowan?”

“My guess is, at home, asleep in his bed.” With that, I get up and walk toward his door. “I’m sure there’s broken glass in the living room, probably a busted lock in the kitchen. But I’m going to bed. You can give the news to my dad.”

When I walk out, I hear a loud bang and then a frustrated curse, but I ignore it.

Too afraid to close and lock my door like I want, I leave it open, crawl under my covers, and fall asleep.When I wake, it’s nearly noon.

I hear Alec on the phone as I make my way toward the kitchen, so I slow my steps, listening.

“Yeah. They broke into her car and stole the opener.”

My brows pull in.

“I know. I did. Changed the locks, checked for wires, put up two more cameras. I also checked her car out. Brakes and everything look good.”

I take another step closer as his voice grows quieter.

“I failed you. Failed … her.”

I quietly lay my head against the wall.

A pained sigh leaves him, the sound so full of defeat that it makes my chest ache.

“I swore to you, to myself, I’d never let any of this touch her. I fucked up.”

Silence and then, “He was right, Trick.” My ears perk at the mention of my father’s nickname. “I’ll never be … it’ll never be me.”

I peek around the corner, watching as Alec drops his forehead onto the countertop.

“How can you possibly believe that?” Alec chuckles into his phone, but it’s broken, disappointed. “I hope you’re right because there’s no other option for me.” Suddenly, Alec shoots from his seat, his grip tightening around his cell. “What exactly are you telling me?”

Ever so slowly, Alec spins to face me. He knew I was listening.

“You asked me to wait,” he speaks to my father, but his eyes burn through my skin. “You’re sure? Because, once I go for it, that’s it. End of fucking story, no way out. And I’m not just talking about for me.”

My dad must give him the answer he wants because an unhurried, treacherous smirk stretches across his face. “I’ll keep you posted, boss.” He hangs up, not turning around to look when he tosses his phone on the counter.

In one swift motion, Alec pulls his hoodie over his head and—holy son of a bitch.

I wasn’t ready for more.

He’s seriously got the body of a UFC fighter and the ink of a rock star, all pulled together with the scars of a fireman.

He’s solid, tall, and trim. Not massive, but cut like no other. Slight burns I didn’t notice the last time mar the edge of his neck and waist where his suit must not have protected him.

They’re fairly fresh, the ones on his hips still a bit red and angry. They suit him well.

A chain hangs around his neck, lying perfectly between his pecs. A crest of some sort. I glance to his abs, and they stare back at me, mocking my inability to touch them.

But do I want to touch …

I take two steps closer, and Alec laughs, instantly pulling me from my haze. My eyes rise to meet his.

“Guess I finally got my answer.”

“What answer?”

“From this morning. If he fucked you good, if he was even capable of it, your body wouldn’t be begging for me.” He licks his lips, slightly tilting his head. “Or maybe it would …”

“What exactly do you think I’m begging for?” I ask, half-hoping he enlightens me, half-hoping he walks away, and not sure either is right.

“More than you’re ready for, but, Oakley”—he walks the rest of the way to me, bringing his heated body a mere inch from mine—“get ready,” he warns.

I swallow, licking my lips. God, this guy makes me nervous. “For?”

Dark, dangerous green eyes command mine.

“Get ready for what?” I try again, my words blowing across his lips; they’re so close.

Too close.

“For me, Oakley,” he whispers, those eyes of his skimming over every inch of my face before coming back to mine. “It’s time.”

“You’re insane.”

“Nah,” he disagrees, stepping around me. “I’m just a man on a mission.”

And he walks away.

After a minute of standing there, stuck on stupid, the sound of the shower kicking on pulls me back to reality.