Roxxy stepped back, but Andrew stepped forward—slow, deliberate, matching her retreat like he had rehearsed the movement a hundred times in his mind.
"Don't," he said quietly.
The word wasn't a threat.
It was worse.
It sounded like a request he expected her to obey.
Roxxy swallowed hard. "Why are you following me?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Because someone needs to."
"I didn't ask for that," she whispered.
"You didn't have to."
Her chest tightened. No stranger should speak to her like that. No stranger should know her like that. Yet he didn't look away, didn't flinch, didn't pretend to be harmless. Andrew looked at her the way someone looks at something they've already decided belongs to them.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, voice trembling.
His eyes softened a fraction. Just a fraction.
"Right now? For you to stop shaking."
"I'm not—"
"You are."
His voice dipped to that dangerous, velvety tone again.
"I can hear it in your breathing."
Roxxy's face heated, humiliation mixing with an instinct she couldn't name. She clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. He noticed anyway. Of course he did.
Andrew leaned in—not touching, just close enough that the air between them felt electric. His scent brushed past her: clean, sharp, something like smoke. She hated that it made her dizzy.
"I shouldn't even be talking to you," she whispered.
"But you are."
Her breath hitched. "Only because you cornered me."
A small, amused sound left him. Not quite a laugh—he didn't seem like a man who laughed much.
"If I truly cornered you," he murmured, lowering his voice, "you'd know."
The warmth that shot through her made her step back again.
Andrew exhaled slowly, as if holding himself back. "Roxxy… I'm not here to scare you."
"You're doing a terrible job," she muttered without thinking.
He stilled. Then something flickered in his eyes—interest.
"You have a bite," he said softly.
"I don't," she protested quickly.
"You do." His gaze dipped to her lips for half a second before lifting back to her eyes. "A small one. Hidden under all that shyness."
Her cheeks burned. She didn't know whether to argue or run.
"Let me walk you home," he said suddenly.
"No."
The word came out fast, too fast, but she didn't take it back.
Andrew didn't look offended. If anything… he looked satisfied, like he finally heard something he expected from her.
"I'll walk behind you then," he said simply.
"That's not— that's even worse!"
"I disagree."
She stared at him, breath unsteady. "Andrew… why can't you just leave me alone?"
His expression didn't change—but his voice did.
It dropped lower, darker, as sincere as a confession.
"Because I tried."
His eyes held hers, unblinking.
"And I can't."
Roxxy's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Andrew took one slow step back, finally giving her space, but his gaze clung to her like a touch.
"Go on," he murmured. "I'm right behind you."
And she knew—
he wasn't asking for permission.
He never had.