Something shifted between us. At least for her. I could tell by the way she was looking at me.

What I should have done was smile that all-knowing smile Troy carried so well, as if he’d known she’d come around. He’d lean casually on the door frame, shirtless and proud, welcoming her in without a single word.

He was right—he was better at this.

“Harper.” It sounded so desperate coming from my lips, because it was torture seeing her again.

“Can I come in?”

I pushed the door against the wall, letting her through. “Is something wrong?” I asked with caution because she seemed like she was about to hurl something at me.

“Yes.” She waltzed in and swiveled anxiously, her dark red boots pacing the few feet of the entry, her trench coat swinging behind her with every pivot. “Why did you do what you did tonight?”

“Because it was what you wanted.”

“How?” She turned, swiping at her forehead. “How long have you…was it just—”

“Harper.” I reached out to calm her. “Please don’t make more of this than it is.” The last thing I needed was for her to fall for Troy all over again.

“So, it was nothing. Clearing a conscience?” Her brows popped questionably.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you kiss me?” she breathed. “I wasn’t after that, but you did it anyway.”

“Harper.”

“Yes,” she shouted. “I’m very much aware that you know who I am. Why would you kiss me?”

Heavens.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Her big eyes looked up at me. “Are you?”

Not even for a second.

I turned away from her, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “What do you want from me Harper?”

She stepped forward, looking up at me with zero hesitation. “I want you to do it again.”

“Why would you want anything to do with me?” My eyes narrowed on her. Disappointment clear in my voice, because she shouldn’t want the person she thought I was.

Her mouth opened then shut again, holding back whatever she was going to say in response. Instead, she nudged closer, causing me to step back.

“I’m not going to kiss you again,” I told her flatly.

“Why not? You prefer brunettes?”

“Dammit Harper.” Dropping the fist I held against my mouth, I moved in on her, pressing her against the nearest wall, kissing her furiously—just for that comment. Because no. I preferred blonds. Not all. Just the one. Heck she could have dyed her hair purple and I’d be into it.

Something between a whine and a moan escaped her as she welcomed the heat of my body and the degree of my longing for her lips again. Her cool fingers slipping around my neck kissing me back and holding me like a woman drowning.