I knew he’d be back.

I might be completely out of my depth when it comes to whatever the hell is happening with Declan Gilroy but I know whatever it is feels inevitable.

Terrifying.

Exhilarating.

Like I’m playing chicken with a hurricane.

So, when I see his size fourteens planted on the garage floor, six inches from my face, I’m not surprised. I don’t ask him what he’s doing here. What he wants. I don’t tell him to leave. To leave me alone because I already tried that and it didn’t work.

And if I’m being honest, I’m glad it didn’t.

Because I don’t want him to leave me alone.

I want him here.

With me.

Regardless of the aftermath.

I fit the lid to the Taurus’s oil pan back in place and tighten the wing nut used to keep it secure. I use the heel of my boot to push my creeper forward and out from under the car I’m working on.

It’s late. Nearly one o’clock in the morning. Technically Wednesday morning but close enough to Tuesday night that I can still pretend that I might get more than a few hours sleep before I have to get up for school. My dad went to bed a while ago. Sometimes I think he forgets that I’m still in high school.

“Con was here.” It’s not an accusation but even though he doesn’t sound angry, he doesn’t look at me when he says it. He’s sitting on the garage floor, back leaned against the bench with my toolbox on it. Shadrach is curled up on his massive chest, purring so loud she sounds like a semi-truck.

I roll myself out from under the car far enough to sit up. “He was.” I plant my boots to stop myself from rolling back. “He left a few hours ago,” I say, even though I have a feeling he knows exactly when his brother left. My guess is he didn’t go home. I’d bet my toolbox he went straight to Henley’s to camp out on her fire escape.

“I’m sorry.” It sounds weird coming out of his mouth. Strained and rusty. Like he means it but doesn’t want to. “About the other day. I know how Con is and I just—”

“Got jealous.” I’m not stupid enough to think his reaction to seeing me with his brother was about me. Whatever that was, it was about Conner. How he feels about him. “Don’t worry. Your brother isn’t trying to get in my pants.”

“Don’t let the dimples fool you. Con is an indiscriminate whore.” He grinds the last couple of words through clenched teeth. “He doesn’t care who he fucks or who he hurts.”

“And you do?”

The question hits him hard. So hard he doesn’t answer me. He just sits there and stares at me for a minute. Finally, he clears his throat. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Your brother isn’t the only Gilroy I’ve heard stories about.” I shrug, pretending that I don’t have a few of my own.

“Oh, yeah?” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “And just what kind of stories have you heard about me, Tesla?”

“You’re not a nice guy.” I’ve heard more. Worse. Things that should make me nervous, just being alone with him. Things that should make me feel lucky that I escaped relatively unscathed the last time I was.

“Is that it?” He laughs. Looks away. “I’m not a nice guy?” He sounds amused but he isn’t. He’s angry. I can see it in the hard set of his jaw. The way the hand resting on his thigh clenches into a fist. “You already know that.”

He’s right. I do.

“You hate your brother.” He doesn’t deny it. “You used Henley. Manipulated her to hurt him.” It’s nothing I haven’t said to him before. I think maybe I’m trying to remind myself of why I shouldn’t be feeling anything but anger where Declan Gilroy is concerned. Why how I really feel when I look at him is wrong. When he doesn’t answer me, I clear my throat. “What about me?”

He finally looks at me, a scowl planted on his face. “What about you?”

“Why are you here?” I ask him but it’s not what I want to know. I want to know if he’s going to hurt me. Use me like he does everyone else, but I don’t ask because I’m afraid of his answer.

“Beats the hell out of me.” He sounds angry. Disgruntled. “I don’t want to be here,” he says bluntly. “I shouldn’t be here but I can’t seem to stay away from you—and it has nothing to do with my brother.”

I’m not sure if I believe him but God help me, I want to.

“I have a question for you—” He tips his head to the side. “with everything you think you know about me, why do you keep letting me in?”

That’s an excellent question.

“Don’t you have a city to terrorize?” I don’t answer him because the truth is, even though I know what he is, that’s it’s wrong to feel the way I do, I can’t help myself. Can’t stop it.

I just keep standing here, waiting for the hurricane.

He flashes me his dimples. “Slow night.”

I stand up, tucking my shop rag back into my pocket. He watches quietly while I peel out of my coveralls, doing my best to fight the flush that coasts along my skin because I’m not wearing a bra and I’m remembering how he scolded me for it, right before he made me come. The way he’s looking at me tells me he’s remembering the same thing.

“I have school in the morning,” I say, not quite looking him in the eye when I toss my coveralls on the bench and reach down to lift Shad off his chest.

He doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t move. Not even when I turn out the overhead lights and head upstairs. I put the cat on my bed and hit the shower. Scrub away the dirt and grime that’s built up under my fingernails. When I’m finally as clean as I’m going to get, I wrap myself in a towel and head to my room.

Declan is sitting on my bed in the dark.

The cat is curled up and purring on his lap.

I don’t turn on the light. I don’t ask him how he got in here. I don’t tell him to leave.

I just lock the door.

Get dressed for bed.

When I cross the room to stand in front of him, he wraps a hand around the back of my leg, pulling me close. When he’s sitting we’re almost the same height. His hand slides up the back of my leg, over the curve of my ass to settle on the small of my back. “I’ll tell Henley I’m sorry, okay?” he says, gripping the back of my shirt like he can’t decide if he wants to pull me closer or push me away. “Tomorrow, I’ll—”

“No. Don’t.” I shake my head at him. “Not unless you mean it.”

The hand on my back falls away, his forehead crumpling slightly. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Nothing.” I take a step back, away from him. “I don’t want anything from you, Declan.” It’s a lie. I want lots of things from Declan. I want him to kiss me again. I want him to touch me. Because when he’s kissing me and touching me, I stop thinking. I stop wondering if every word out of his mouth is a lie. I stop caring about what kind of person he is.

“Everybody wants something.”

“Yeah?” I throw up my arms before letting them fall to my sides. “Then what do you want, Declan? Why do you keep coming here? Why can’t you just—”

One second I’m ranting and hissing at him like a snake, the next he’s reaching for me. Hauling me against him. One huge hand clamped around the back of my neck. Another splayed across my back. There’s no time to think. About right or wrong. About why I keep giving into to him. When his mouth hits mine, all I can do is fall.

His tongue licks its way past my lips and I let him in with a quiet moan that has his fingers tightening around my neck. His hand coasting over the curve of my ass. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine. The hand on my ass dips lower, and I automatically widen my stance, whimpering softly when his fingers trace the seam of my pussy from behind and I instantly start to shake.

My reaction to him, my willingness to comply, to give him anything he wants, no matter the consequences, terrifies me.

I’m not afraid of Declan. I’m afraid of who I am when I’m with him.

Planting my hands on his chest I push myself away from him, putting enough space between us to allow me to think clearly. Even so, all I can do is stand here and look at him, my chest heaving. My mouth buzzing.

“I want you to leave.”

His jaw snaps tight at my tone and he shakes his head. “No you don’t.”

Before I can lie and tell him he’s wrong, he stands up, the movement bringing him entirely too close. I tell myself to back up but I can’t move. I just stand here, staring up at him. Declan turns and leans down to give the kitten one last scratch before looking down at me again. “Sweet dreams, Tesla,” he says, with a knowing smile before he doesn’t exactly what I asked him to do.

He leaves.