I’m not your problem to worry about.” Turning, she heads back up the way we came, but I stop her, pinning her against the wall, the two of us meeting on the same stair. “Yes, the fuck you are.” She stares right at me, not backing down. “Kai, I am not your problem.” My attention dips to her lips. “Be my problem.” Swallowing, she tilts her head, testing me. “Then do something to make me your problem.” Fuck me. I’m so frustratingly into this woman, so I do just that. I make her my problem. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way my mouth crashes onto hers because there’s nothing soft or
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