“Say you don’t want me.” My voice was quieter now, softer, raw in a way I didn’t like. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

He was a shadow I have danced with for too long, each step a silent plea for him to turn and see me. I was tired of it.

Blake’s lips parted slightly.

His throat bobbed.

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.” My voice shook, but I masked it with a smirk.

Blake’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and I swear I almost lost my mind.

I took my shot.

I leaned in, closing the last inch of space between us. My breath hitched as I got close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne, feel his warmth, and watch the way his lips parted. But then leaned back slightly, his hand shifting between us, fingers curling around my wrist, stopping me before I could close the distance.

I swallowed, my skin burning under his touch.

Blake’s lips twitched at the corners, but it wasn’t quite a smile. It was something heavier. “You think you want to kiss me?”

I blinked.

Blake was playing with me. He wanted me flustered.

I sighed, shifting closer. “Don’t be an ass.”

He made a low, rumbling sound in his throat, something close to a laugh. His fingers brushed lightly over my wrist, sending a shiver up my spine. “You get real bold when you want something, you know that?”

“And you get real annoying when you don’t just⁠—”

“Let you have whatever you want?”

I hated him. I really hated him. Because he was right.

I always got what I wanted with Blake.

I had always made sure of that.

But this was different.

Blake had never let me win when it mattered.

He wasn’t going to let me win now.

My stomach twisted, a mix of frustration and something I didn’t have the words for. “I hate you.”

Blake laughed. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“Obsessed is a strong word.”

Blake hummed like he was considering that, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Maybe I like watching you squirm.”

I huffed, turning my head, staring at the movie, determined to ignore him.

Blake let the silence settle for a moment, then he reached out and tugged my blanket down, exposing my shoulder.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he leaned in, close enough that his breath was warm against my skin. Slowly, he tilted his head and kissed my neck.

I gasped. It wasn’t a soft, fleeting kiss. It was deliberate. Lazy. A whisper of lips and warmth and the barest scrape of his teeth as he let his mouth linger against my skin, pressing just enough that my pulse jumped under his lips.

I swallowed. “Blake.”