A moment later, the reply came.
: Your uncle gave me.
"Fucking meddler!" she hissed under her breath. Since when were they best friends? He'd probably threatened the number out of her uncle.
She huffed and flopped back onto her bed, glaring at the phone as if it were Winn himself. And of course, another message followed, relentless as ever.
: So, what are you wearing?
Her fingers twitched with the urge to throw the phone across the room. He had some damn nerve.
Me: None of your business.
She could almost hear his low chuckle in her mind—deep, smooth, and infuriatingly confident.
: You know, very soon you will be writhing beneath me.
Me: You are so sure of yourself.
She typed it coolly, forcing herself to breathe evenly even as heat crept up her neck.
Winn: When it comes to you, yes.
She closed her eyes, exhaling through clenched teeth. He was so damn sure, always. Even when she'd tried to hate him, he'd made it impossible.
Me: Just leave me alone. Goodnight.
