“Melissa… are you there?”
Nicolas’s voice dripped through the receiver, rough and intoxicating.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. My pulse beat so loudly in my ears it drowned out everything else. God, even after all this time, just hearing him say my name made something inside me clench.
I forced myself to speak, though the words came out brittle. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”
He chuckled low, the sound curling down my spine like smoke. “Maybe. But you picked up.”
My lips parted, but nothing came out. He was right—I could’ve ignored him. I should’ve ignored him. But I hadn’t. Because deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it, part of me had been waiting for this.
“I don’t want to play this game again, Nicolas,” I whispered, gripping the counter until my knuckles went white.
