The jacket jutted out into the empty space between us, and he looked at it like it was a foreign object and cocked his head. “Took you long enough.”

I grunted in frustration. “You could have just taken it with you the other night.”

He pushed the jacket back at me. “Where’s the fun in that?” He took a step closer, and I could smell him. He smelled like trouble—-fresh and warm with a cigarette edge. Why he looked and smelled this good was a crime if you considered his reputation. “Seems like I have been running through your mind for a while.”

“Yes. Like a petulant child.” I flared my nostrils in an angry huff, shoving the jacket back out at him again.

Unmoved, he looked me up and down, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. “So...dressed like that,” he paused, clearly staring, “you decided to come to my house and return my jacket?”

I glanced down at my pajamas——skimpy and consisting of a spaghetti strap crop top that could easily pass for a bra and too short satin shorts. I clicked my tongue and realized I must have looked ridiculous.

He was testing me. Trying to force my hand somehow. What was his angle? I found it hard to believe that the moment I decided to return his jacket to him he just so happened to be waiting for me on my porch. It was a little too strange to be an innocent coincidence.

Did this guy read minds?

We locked eyes and the tension held between us felt thick. Palpable. For some reason he made my heart race and adrenaline course through my veins. “Yes,” I said, shaking those thoughts away. I tried to cover myself in a feeble attempt to reclaim some semblance of modesty. It ended up in a weird attempt to cross my arms over my chest.

He mimicked my stance and folded his arms. An eyebrow raised, he played a teasing smile. “I like it when you dress like this all for me. Do you dress like this for that boyfriend of yours?”

I ignored that. “Last chance,” I snapped, holding the jacket back out. “Take it back this time or I’m turning around and going back inside.”

He chuckled and leaned himself onto the porch railing. That deviant smile still played on his lips. His demeanor was nonchalant as usual and it annoyed me. What kind of guy was always playing these types of games? A fuckboy, that’s who. One of his fingers found his chin and he gave a faux pondering expression. “Dealer’s choice, then. The first option is getting my favorite riding jacket back. The second option is getting to watch you walk away from me in those skimpy little shorts of yours.”