Chapter 141: Tangled Heat
Thorne
I couldn’t think straight. My mind was a mess, and Josie was the cause of it.
I knew I should’ve kept my distance from her. I knew better. But it had been too long since we’d spoken without venom lacing every word, too long since her eyes had met mine without resentment shadowing them. And now, after what happened last night—hell, after everything—I couldn’t handle the fact that she acted like it hadn’t meant a damn thing. Like she could move on to my brother and erase me completely.
The thought alone gnawed at me until I was half mad.
Her footsteps echoed across the office floor, each one scraping against my nerves, setting me on edge. My body betrayed me as always, heat surging, my dick straining against the confines of my pants just from her nearness. I clenched my fists under the desk, nails digging into my palms.
Damian’s voice slid across the air, cool and teasing, aimed right at her.
"Don’t tell me you don’t know who you should be giving that coffee to, Josie."
Her voice snapped back, tight but not sharp. "I wasn’t taught to stand while eating."
That stubbornness—Gods, I almost smiled. Damian, though, wasn’t about to let her off.
"Drinking and eating, sweetheart," he drawled, "are two different worlds. Now, come here."
I watched her hesitate, caught between resistance and submission. She gave her usual reluctant protests, trying to argue with logic, but Damian had her cornered. He knew it. I knew it.
"Fine then," he said, voice rich with amusement. "Bring me the coffee and the pasta. Both."
Her little mumble reached me, soft and unwilling, but telling. She hadn’t even realized she was walking into a trap.
And that was when she turned—her eyes flicked to me.
"Thorne," she said quietly, "you should just take your coffee."
The sound of my name from her lips—it sparked something wild in me. I moved before I could think better of it, closing the space with a fluid motion that felt more like instinct than choice.
What happened next was half dance, half battle of wills. My legs shifted beneath the desk, brushing against her as she tried to steady the tray. I let the contact linger, my thighs inching up until they pressed against hers, claiming space that wasn’t mine to take. She jolted, shock flashing in her eyes, but instead of pulling back, one of her hands landed on my shoulder for balance.
That one touch lit my blood on fire.
We held the coffee together—her hand steady, mine firm, both of us too aware of how close we were, how charged the air had become.
I didn’t care. I didn’t want to care.
Her lips parted, just slightly, and I saw the confusion in her gaze. The war between denial and want. And that look—fuck, that look—unraveled me.
I leaned in, my voice low, meant for her alone.
"Next time you argue," I murmured, "I’ll place your ass over this desk and spank you until you learn."
Her breath hitched. She stammered, "Wh-what are you even saying—?"
But I wasn’t listening to her words. My eyes had already dropped lower, to the outline beneath her shirt. Her nipples—hard, straining against the fabric.
So maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she pretended.
The realization amused me, pulled a crooked smile to my lips even as my wolf snarled inside me, demanding, urging me to claim what was already his.
That thought froze me for half a second. Claiming her wasn’t just lust—it was binding. Permanent. Dangerous. A line I could never step back over once crossed.
And yet...
I lifted the coffee to my lips, deliberately slow, deliberately steady, my gaze never once breaking from hers. Her eyes widened, the silent plea in them unmistakable.
"It’s hot," she whispered.
I drank anyway. Scalding or not, I swallowed it down like it was nothing but water. The burn didn’t matter. The way she looked at me did.
Her disbelief cracked into words. "You’re insane." She shook her head, stepping back as though distance could save her. "You’re completely crazy, and I’m leaving."
My hand shot out—not to grab her, not yet—but to stop her with words.
"You really don’t remember what happened last night?"
Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned back slowly. Her eyes searched mine, careful, guarded.
"What do you remember?" she asked instead, voice steady but hiding something beneath.
That twist of defiance set my teeth on edge. My wolf bristled. I hated when she turned my questions back on me, hated the way she tried to avoid the truth we both knew existed.
I rose from my chair, my tone sharp.
"Don’t ignore me, Josie. I don’t like it when my questions go unanswered. Speak. Now."
She faltered, caught between words and silence. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then shook her head as though dismissing the weight of it all.
"It’s... not important," she murmured. "Not everything needs to be discussed."
Not important?
I laughed, low and humorless.
"Not important? You think I’ll let you erase it just like that? Pretend it didn’t matter?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t respond.
I stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until she had to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. The air between us was molten, dangerous, and yet I couldn’t stop myself.
"So that’s it?" I asked quietly. "You won’t admit it? Then tell me this—why the hell have you been staring at my mouth like you want to kiss me?"
Her breath hitched again, sharp and unguarded. She froze, her eyes betraying her even as her body stilled like prey caught in a snare.
And just as I leaned forward, just as her lips parted ever so slightly—
The door swung open.
I groaned under my breath, the sound more a growl than a sigh.
Varen and Kiel stepped in, their presence sharp, cold, and completely unwelcome.
I forced myself back, biting down the frustration as I turned my gaze away. Timing had never been crueler.
"Take the food away," I muttered, the words edged with annoyance I couldn’t hide.
Josie’s head snapped toward me, her eyes blazing, voice cutting with defiance.
"I won’t."
And just like that, the air burned again.