Lennox's POV
I should have walked away.
I should have left her standing there, wet hair clinging to her skin, wrapped in nothing but that damn towel that made it impossible to think straight.
But I didn't.
I couldn't control it—the jealousy, the anger, the possessiveness burning through my veins like wildfire. I knew I shouldn't feel this way. I knew Louis was mated to her too. But the thought of her kissing him, of her enjoying it, of her getting wet for him—for him alone—drove me insane.
And now, here she was, standing before me, wrapped in nothing but a towel, staring at me with those defiant eyes, daring me to react.
"Of course, I enjoyed it," she suddenly said, her voice sharp, cutting through the thick air between us. "We can even fuck if we want. I prefer him to you, and I'd pick him over you any day."
The words hit like a punch to the gut, but I didn't let it show. I just stared at her, my hands pressing against the wall on either side of her.
