Chapter 12

STEVIE

I sway on my feet, the world a blur of colors and sounds. The alcohol buzzes through my veins, making me feel invincible and reckless. How dare Lennox interfere with my night with Will? He was good-looking—probably the best-looking guy Micah and Jesse had introduced me to yet. I've had enough of Lennox and his shit.

Ignoring Micah and Jesse's murmured questions about where Will went and why he didn't say goodbye, I push myself to my feet. Determined to confront Lennox, I stagger toward him, tugging down my black dress when I catch him checking me out. His infuriatingly confident expression fuels my rage.

As closing time approaches, I make my way to the bar, eager to cause some shit and push Lennox's buttons. My heart races as I approach. Leaning against the counter, I look up at him with that same defiant stare I know he gets a kick out of.

"Enjoying the show?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Always," he replies, meeting my gaze. "You look good tonight, lil spark."

I roll my eyes. "Save the compliments, Lennox. What did you say to Will to make him leave?"

He smirks, clearly finding humor is my discontent. "Just told him the truth."

"And what truth is that?" I spit.

Lennox chuckles as he wipes down the bar and places the discarded glasses in the sink behind him, "That he doesn't have what it takes to please you,"

My eyes narrow as my lips pull into a coy smile. "And you think you do?"

He leans in closer, lowering his voice. "I know I do. I've felt your body react to my touch. I heard you moan my fucking name while you came undone on my cock. I have exactly what you need. What you crave, and deep down, you know it too. That guy, he wasn't shit. Just a pawn in your little game,"

I glare at him, but by the look on his face, he can see the flicker of uncertainty in my eyes. Because he's right. But I'll never fucking admit it.

The game is far from over, and we both know it.

"Go to hell, Lennox," I spit. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" I slur, my words dripping with venom. "Scaring off Will like that. Who the hell do you think you are?"

Lennox's eyes glint with amusement as he takes another leisurely sip of his beer. "Just looking out for you, Stevie. Will wasn't your type."

I bristle at his dismissive tone, nearly losing my balance as I step closer. "I'm not yours, Lennox! We had one good night. Get the fuck over it." My voice wavers, thick with emotion and intoxication. I can barely stand, my legs threatening to give way under the weight of my fury and inebriation.

Seeing me about to fall, Lennox quickly hands off his beer to someone nearby and catches me before I hit the ground. His arms are strong and steady, his touch both infuriating and comforting. "I think it's time for you to go home, lil spark," he says firmly. He shouts to the two other bartenders, "You guys good if I dip out? I need to get her home,"

"Yeah, man, we got it," the male bartender shouts back.

I struggle in his grasp. My protests are slurred and incoherent. "You're so annoying, Lennox. Just because you're hot doesn't mean you can be weird and stalk me," I spit, my words barely making sense. "No one owns me. I belong to myself," I continue.

Lennox doesn't respond to my ranting. He carries me effortlessly out to his car, placing me in the passenger seat. My anger momentarily subsides as I take in the vehicle—an older model, black with a black leather interior. It's beautiful, like something out of a movie or magazine. The smell of gasoline and leather fills my senses, grounding me in the moment as my rage seems to fade away.

I melt into the seat as Lennox climbs in next to me and sticks the keys in the ignition. The engine's roar is exciting as it vibrates through my body, enhancing my buzz. My frustration morphs into a different kind of heat. I whine, the alcohol making me both drunk and horny. "Now, what am I supposed to do? Thanks to you, my only chance of getting laid tonight is gone."

Lennox's expression hardens. "Fuck that. You have needs? I'll be the one to tend to them. No one else, let alone some fucking chump like, Will." His voice is a low growl, possessive, and unyielding.

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. "You're such an asshole, Lennox. I'd rather fuck myself than let you touch me again."

He laughs, a dark, mocking sound. "Good, and since I'm stalking you as you claim, I'll get a front-row seat. Shit, movies ain't my thing, but if there was a show I didn't mind watching, that would be it." His smirk is infuriating, his confidence maddening.

I glare at him, my anger reigniting. "You're insane," I snap as he pulls out of the parking lot.

As we drive, the tension between us simmers. My thoughts are a chaotic mix of resentment and desire. I hate the way Lennox makes me feel—both out of control and deeply wanted. Despite my anger, a part of me thrills at his attention, even if it is possessive and overbearing. Sliding my hand into my purse, I pull out my pack of smokes, but before I can take one out, Lennox snatches it from my hand and tosses it out the window.

"What the fuck!" I snap.

"No smoking in the car," he replies with a cocky smirk. I cross my arms over my chest, and turn my sights back out the passenger window.

The ride is a blur of streetlights and shadows. Lennox remains silent, his focus on the road. My mind wanders, my body still buzzing from the alcohol. I hate him for ruining my night and making me feel powerless. Yet, I can't deny the magnetic pull he has on me; the way his presence stirs something deep within me. I can't deny that no matter how fucking infuriating he is, I want him.

By the time we reach my place, I'm a mix of exhaustion and pent-up frustration. Lennox parks the car and comes around to my side, opening the door like he's a perfect fucking gentlemen which is even more frustrating.

I stumble out, catching myself against him. His arms wrap around me, steadying me once more.

"I hate you," I mutter, my voice small and defeated.

Lennox's grip tightens slightly, and there is a hint of something softer in his eyes. "I know," he replies quietly as he tucks my hair behind my ear. "But I'm not letting you go, Stevie. Not now, not ever."

As Lennox guides me inside, the alcohol is still buzzing through my veins, but it's mingled now with a fiery cocktail of anger and desire. His hand is firm on my lower back, and it's infuriating how much I like the warmth of his touch.

"You're really something else, you know that?" I slur, my voice heavy with frustration. "always thinking you can just barge into my life and take over."

Lennox smirks, his eyes gleaming with that infuriating confidence. "Just making sure you don't get yourself into trouble, Stevie."

"I don't need your protection," I snap, attempting to sound fierce, but it comes out weaker than I'd intended. "I can handle myself."

"Sure you can," he replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He leads me to the couch and sits me down gently. "That's why you were about to fall on your ass back there."

I scowl at him, feeling a fresh wave of defiance. "I was handling it just fine until you decided to play hero." I toss my purse on the couch and kick off my heels. Grim meows from his cat tree before curling back up and going to sleep.

Lennox chuckles, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, lil spark," He moves to the kitchen, rummaging through my cupboards. "Got any coffee?"

"Why? Planning on staying the night?" I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

He glances at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe I am. Someone's gotta make sure you don't burn the place down."

"Funny," I mutter, watching him as he fills the coffee maker. "You know, I don't need a babysitter."

"Never said you did," he replies, turning his attention back to the coffee maker. "Just looking out for you."

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the couch. The room spins slightly, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. When I open them again, Lennox is standing in front of me, holding a glass of water.

"Drink this," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I take the glass from him reluctantly, sipping it slowly. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've been told," he replies, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "But you like it."

"Don't flatter yourself," I retort, but there's no real heat in my words. The truth is, a part of me does fucking like it—likes the way he challenges me, the way he pushes back when no one else dares to.

He sits down next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. The proximity sends a shiver down my spine, and I hate how much I respond to him.

"You know, you're not as tough as you think you are," he says softly, his eyes locking onto mine.

I glare at him, my pride prickling. "And you're not as charming as you think you are."

Lennox laughs a deep, genuine sound that makes my heart skip a beat. "Touché." He leans in slightly, his gaze intense. "But seriously, Stevie. You don't have to do everything alone."

"I've been alone my whole life," I whisper, the vulnerability slipping out before I can stop it. "I'm used to it."

"You don't have to be," he says, his voice equally soft. "Not anymore."

For a moment, we just sit there, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I can feel the pull between us, the magnetic attraction that I both hate and crave.

"You're impossible," I mutter, my eyes dropping to his lips.

"And you're irresistible," he counters, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, and before I can think better of it, I lean in, my lips brushing against his. The kiss is soft at first, a tentative exploration, but it quickly deepens, fueled by the tension and desire that's been simmering between us all night.

His hands slide around my waist, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, the heat of his body igniting a fire within me. Our tongues dance together, a heated battle for dominance, and I lose myself in the sensation of his lips, his touch, his taste.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. "I still hate you," I whisper, though the words lack any real conviction.

"Good," he replies, his voice husky. "Keep that fire, Stevie. It's one of the things that has me so fucking addicted to you."

Before I can respond, a wave of exhaustion crashes over me, the alcohol and the emotional rollercoaster of the night catching up to me. My eyelids grow heavy, and I can barely keep them open.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Lennox says gently, scooping me up in his arms.

I mumble a weak protest, but it's half-hearted at best. I'm too tired to fight him anymore, too drained to keep up the facade of anger and defiance. As he carries me to my bedroom and lays me down on the bed, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a rare moment of contentment in his arms.

"Stay," I murmur, my voice barely audible.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replies, his lips brushing against my forehead.

As I drift off to sleep, my last conscious thought is that maybe, just maybe, having Lennox in my life isn't such a bad thing after all.