Periwinkle

24| DEMONSTRATION

SHANE'S POV

She hesitantly crossed the threshold, her gaze flitting between me and the half-empty glass in my hand. The air in the room felt heavy and thick with unspoken tension and the lingering scent of alcohol as she perched gingerly on the edge of the chair opposite me, her posture rigid and her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"Well," I drawled as I held her gaze, the amber liquid in my glass warming my insides despite the chill that had settled in the room. "Care to explain the little... performance I walked in on earlier?"

A flush crept up her cheeks, the color deepening as she avoided my gaze. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh, enlighten me then, Ms. Williams." The amber liquid in my glass caught the faint glow of the desk lamp as I swirled it. "Perhaps you've got a totally normal reason for carrying on like that with my brother knowing I live under the same roof?"

"That's not—"

"Save it. Don't play coy with me. You knew I lived here. You knew the risks."

"Risks?" Her voice rose a notch, the first sign of the fiery spirit I knew resided beneath that facade of academic decorum. "Maybe if you hadn't just stood there like a statue, things wouldn't have gotten so far."

My breath hitched. The accusation hung heavy in the air as shame flooded my cheeks, momentarily eclipsing the anger.

Fuck, I couldn't deny her words.

But the moment of self-awareness was fleeting. Anger surged back, fueled by the liquor and the audacity of her accusation.

"Are you blaming me for your inability to control yourselves?" I spat out, the words laced with venom.

"Maybe a little," she shot back. "It's not like you exactly made a scene when you walked in. Just stood there, gawking like a—"

The retort died on her lips as my hand, clumsy because of the alcohol, knocked over the glass I was holding. The liquid splashed out in a torrent, catching the edge of the desk before cascading down and soaking a good portion of her lap and chest in the process.

Her eyes widened, and a strangled gasp left her as she lurched back in her chair before standing up, the chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor.

"Fuck!" I cursed. I shot up from my chair and rounded the desk in a heartbeat, adrenaline momentarily overriding the pleasant buzz from the alcohol.

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, I was about to reach out to clean up the mess that was the spreading stain on her blouse, but then the situation caught up to me. Thinking better of it, I instead handed her the paper towels so she could clean it up herself and mumbled, "Sorry."

She just stood frozen in front of me for a moment, her lips parted with shock, her cheeks flushed, and her blouse drenched. The fabric clung to her flesh like a second skin, and the lace of her bra was clearly visible beneath it. I tried not to focus on that and kept my eyes deliberately trained on the stack of papers on my stack as she took the paper towels from me.

"It's okay," she said softly. "It was just an accident."

I couldn't help but glance at her when she said that. The same words that I'd told her that day at the party. She was throwing my words right back at me.

She was dabbing at the mess, her focus solely on trying to clean up her blouse. But the sight of her bent over, the damp fabric sticking to her curves, and the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed did nothing but send a jolt straight down to my cock.