Amelia rolled her eyes and turned away, heading into the kitchen, with Jillian trailing behind her. They pretended to be occupied with the fridge and dishwasher while I led Chase upstairs. In reality, they’d be up right behind us to eavesdrop. Then they could report the intimate details of my personal life back to everyone else. Super.

He followed me up the staircase and down the hall into my bedroom, lit by the yellow glow of the small bedside lamp. My iPad lay on my white comforter, still paused on the Netflix show I had been half watching instead of studying like I told him I had been—like I should have been. But I hadn’t been able to focus on anything in days.

I didn’t know if we were about to talk, fight, or break up.

He shut the door behind him quietly. Before I could sit down on my bed, he closed the distance between us, and his large hands landed on my hips, turning me to face him.

Eyes still locked on mine, he took a step forward, followed by another, until he backed me up against the wooden door. His divine, familiar scent enveloped me, going to my head and straight through my defenses. My eyes dropped to the pulse at the base of his throat for a beat, then traveled to the tense cords of his neck before snapping back up to his.

He pinned me to the spot and heated my skin with just a look. He had me cornered—figuratively and literally. I couldn’t draw my attention away from him. I was victim to his commanding presence. Five extra inches was pretty significant when it was accompanied by an additional forty pounds of muscle.

Especially when he was pissed.

“What’s going on, James?” he asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

His jaw ticked. “Why are you ghosting me?”

“I’m not.” At least, not on purpose. It started innocently enough, taking some time to think. But thinking had turned into catastrophizing, and now I was pretty sure I had blown things way, way out of proportion.

“You absolutely are,” Chase said. “And I didn’t work my ass off earning your trust only to have you throw it away without an explanation.”

Desire, guilt, regret. They all slammed into me like a wrecking ball. I reached up to touch him, but he took hold of my wrists and pinned them against the door.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you want to touch me when you don’t want to be with me?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I did want to be with him. I wanted it so badly it hurt, and that was the problem.

This wasn’t the kind of thing I’d walk away from in one piece.

“That’s not it.”

His pupils dilated as he considered me. “Then explain.”

It was an order, not a request.