"You're talking like you know her inside and out," I said, my voice flat but sharp enough to draw blood. "Like she's yours to speak for. Don't get comfortable just because she's letting you orbit her right now."
His jaw flexed, and I caught the subtle shift in his posture. A tell. He felt that.
"She's not keeping you close for you," I continued, walking toward him slowly, step by step, eating the distance between us like it was nothing. "You're a temporary distraction. A dull ache she's using to forget what it feels like to be completely wrecked by me."
I stopped right in front of him. My breath was steady, my gaze colder than the ice buried in the veins of every man I've buried.
"She moans my name when she breaks apart. Takes me like a good girl. Because that's who she really belongs to. And you? You're just a warm hand and borrowed time."
He looked away for a second. Just a flick. Just long enough.
Got you.
