Page 67 of Not Until Her

“How have you never asked me that?”

“How have you never asked mine?”

“Good point.”

She crosses her arms. “I’m Kara.”

Kara. Wow. That really fits her.

It also brings up the shadow of a memory, something I don’t stand a chance of remembering. She’s more than likely not the first person I’ve ever met with that name, but I can’t think of who else it was or how I’d know them.

“I’m Reya,” I tell her.

She smiles again at that.

“Quite fitting for such aray of sunshine.”

And my breath catches in my throat.

She rolled her eyes at the last three words, but there was no real annoyance there. There was nothing negative about it at all, it was practically endearing.

There’s no way she could have known that my parents have called me that since I was a kid. That hearing that nickname is the quickest way to make me feel safe and warm and—

Shit, it’s finally hitting me that this might not just be a silly, forgettable crush. Somehow, even amongst all of the bullshit, I seem to have caught some feelings for this woman.

My neighbor.

Kara.

20

She teases me with small bites to the crook of my neck and I’m instantly melting. I’d let her do anything she wanted, and I prove that fact by climbing onto her bed, and starting to undress. My shirt has buttons today, and they take an agonizingly long time to get undone.

The heat in Kara’s gaze feels like it’s branding my skin everywhere it goes. It’s an addictive sort of burn.

I watch with rapt attention as she walks to her bedside table, opens a drawer, and pulls something out. Her body hides it from view at first, but even when she turns to face me again, she moves it behind her back.

“That’s not suspicious,” I mutter.

“Do you trust me?” she asks.

“No,” I reply quickly.

I realize it’s foolish that we got this farso many timeswithout trust being a factor, but I guess it must have been there on someinstinctive level. I might finally trust that she’s not a murderer, but I’m not sure she still isn’t hiding a secret twin from me.

I’ve actually never asked.

Crap.

“Then why are you even here?”

“Haven’t we had this conversation before? Convenience, mutual release…”

She smirks.

“You can’t find that with someone you trust? I find that hard to believe. You seem…” She really hesitates to think of a word. “Likable.”

My stomach does flips, and I take it for a compliment even if it wasn’t really meant to be one. It’s hard to say with this woman.