(Lena’s POV)

Marcus didn’t drop me at the curb like a normal person.

He pulled into the narrow alley behind my building, killed the engine, and sat there with one wrist draped over the steering wheel like he had all the time in the world. The truck’s cab felt smaller without the city noise to hide behind. His thigh was still too close to mine. The thick ridge along the left leg of his jeans hadn’t moved the entire ride, and I hated that I knew that.

I reached for the door handle.

“You never answered me,” he said.

I froze. “About what?”

“About watching.”

I turned my head slowly....