ROXANNE

Aston gave me one of those devastatingly cruel smirks of his as he pushed off the doorframe and walked slowly toward me.

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling dry as bone, and looked up at him as he closed the distance between us. The air in the kitchen felt instantly tiny, his tall frame taking up every bit of space until there was nowhere else for me to look.

"You must hate it, right?" he asked in a low, gravelly tone.

I frowned, taking a small step back until my spine hit the edge of the kitchen counter. "Hate what?"

Aston sighed softly, leaning back casually against the counter...