“I know,” I say with an answering almost-smile.

“She couldn’t stop agreeing with you. I was tempted to tell her to grow a spine and come up with her own opinion.”

“She did it to piss you off.” I shrug when she gapes at me. “Don’t bother denying it—you know it’s true.”

Violet laughs, the sound soft and sweet in the otherwise quiet of the large room. “People rarely pay attention to the sisterly dynamics between us. I figure most people aren’t aware when we’re trying to get at each other.”

“Oh, I could tell.” Mostly because I pride myself on my people-reading skills. That, and Pilar and I have engaged in similar behavior while at work in the past. She’s the only person I’ve ever felt close to … though I’m starting to feel that way about Violet.

The realization stuns me.

“Well, you’re very perceptive,” Violet says, unaware that she’s just rocked my world.

I clear my throat and focus on her. “She knows about us, I presume?”

Her cheeks color, and the urge to touch her makes me clench my fingers into a tight fist so I won’t. I can’t move too fast again. She’s like a wounded animal that’ll run at first sight of me coming for her. I can’t risk it. “It feels like everyone knows about us,” she says quietly. “After your little fight with Zachary last night.”

“I doubt everyone knows.” I’m such an idiot for letting that asshole get to me. Only a select few saw us arguing last night, but still. “Does that bother you? I know you wanted to keep it secret.”

“I did. I still do. It looks … bad, that I’ve fallen out of Zachary’s arms and into yours.”

That we’re compared to each other makes me want to kill him. At the very least, beat the shit out of him. “You haven’t necessarily fallen into my arms,” I tell her, trying to make light of what’s happening between us. “It’s no one’s business, what we’re doing together.”

“True.”

“And it’s all speculation.”

“With the exception of you describing to Zachary exactly what you did to me in that closet,” she says dryly.

That’s right. I did. Don’t regret it, either. “Something else will happen in the next day or two to divert their attention. They’ll find someone new to talk about,” I reassure her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not.” She studies me, her gaze dropping to my chest as she takes a deep breath. “It made me angry, what you said earlier. That Zachary was using me.”

“I know.” I’m not going to pretend I’m unaware of her moods. She’s like an open book. And a terrible liar.

The complete opposite of me.

“And for whatever reason, it … hurt when you said you were using me, too.” She rolls her eyes and waves a hand, as if dismissing what she just said. “I know it’s stupid. We’ve said from the get-go that we were using each other. You offered yourself up to me. You wanted to do this to make Zachary mad and I suppose you’ve done just that, so I’m guessing now that you’re … through with me.”

The disappointment in her voice, that’s written all over her, is palpable. “I suppose,” I agree, causing her to inhale sharply. Great, I’ve stunned her. But I’m doing it on purpose. Hoping to turn this into exactly what I envisioned.

“All right,” she says with that defiant little tilt of her chin. “At least I know where I stand with you.”

I push away from the wall and take a step toward her, my gaze intent on her face. “Do you, Violet?”

She backs up a step. “I thought so.”

“So where do you stand with me?” I’m toying with her again. Trying to confuse her. It’s so easy that I can’t help myself.

“What happened between us is … done.” She’s disappointed by the idea and her sadness gives me strength.

“Do you want it to be done?” Every step I take toward her, she steps backward, until her butt hits the edge of the conference table and I have her trapped. I’m all she can see, all she can reach out and touch besides the table, which is cold and hard beneath her ass.

And here I am, cold and hard and standing in front of her. Not much difference, really.

“I …” She clears her throat. “What do you want?”

“I asked first.” Reaching out, I give in to my urges and touch her face. Drift my fingers across her cheek, along her jaw, pressing my thumb into her chin. She parts her lips, a shuddery breath escaping her, and I’m tempted to lean in and kiss her.

But I don’t.

“You confuse me,” she whispers. “I-I don’t like you very much sometimes.”

Ouch. “I can’t blame you.”

“But you look at me and I feel … I don’t know what I feel. And when you touch me …” She closes her eyes as I trace her lower lip with my index finger, then her upper lip. She has the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen, ever touched, ever tasted. “I want you to keep doing it,” she confesses softly.

“Keep doing what?” I step in between her legs and press my body to hers, slipping my arm around her waist. I shouldn’t do this. I need to show some restraint. The constant back-and-forth between us is confusing. Both to her and to me.

“Touching me. I want to feel your hands on my skin.” She tilts her head back when I bend over her and nuzzle her throat. “You breathe on me and I feel like I could go up in flames.”