CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO #3
His lips found mine in one last, soft kiss before he collapsed onto the mattress beside me.
He rested his head on the pillow and reached for a sheet, pulling it over us, covering us from the waist down, wrapping us together.
His scent clung to my skin, and I didn’t think I ever wanted to move from this spot.
I glanced around at the mess of blankets and the actual mattress beneath us. It was the first real bed we’d ever made love in.
“Now I see the appeal of a proper bed,” I said, still breathless.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t hesitate to sweep you onto that floor and taste you over there too,” he said, his big hand resting on my stomach, warm and possessive. “I’ll never tire of you, of this body, your fucking taste.”
Heat flared in my stomach. My eyes darted to the floor, my lips curving into a mischievous smile as I pictured it.
Oh yeah, that could be fun. Floor, ceiling, Mars. I’d follow this man anywhere if he kept talking like that.
James caught my smile, his own darkening with amusement, clearly enjoying this little game as much as I was. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rolled me over him, pinning me against his chest. My breasts flattened against his skin, his heartbeat heavy under my palm.
“Let’s do it on the floor. Right now,” he growled.
I laughed as he attacked my face with rushed kisses.
“You know, I love your kisses. They’re delicious.”
James smirked. “It’s a talent, Sarah.”
I played along, biting my lip as my fingers trailed across his chest. “So much talent in one body. So strong… so handsome…”
“How did you resist me for so long?”
“Well, there were other men on the ranch to kiss, you know. Men who actually talked to me back then,” I said, making sure to lick my lips very, very slowly.
His eyebrows pulled together in one sharp line. “Who the fuck kissed you?”
“You want the list?”
“Hold on. There’s a list?”
I giggled. “James, you’re so funny.”
“There’s nothing funny about that. I wanna know the dead man who kissed my girl before me. Names. Now.”
I shook my head, smiling. “I’d rather not be responsible for so many deaths.”
“I knew it! I knew all the guys on that ranch wanted you!” He ran a hand through his hair, breathing harder, like he was doing the math on how many graves he’d have to dig. “Don’t tell me Bruce was one of them. Shit. I like the guy. Now I gotta find him and kill him.”
I pressed my lips together, trying hard to hide my amusement, because jealous James was officially my favorite James.
“Who else? Brian?”
The teasing drained right out of me, and my smile faded.
James noticed instantly. He tipped my chin up with two fingers until I met his eyes.
“There. Every time I say Brian’s name, your smile disappears. You’re still sad we didn’t find him?”
He tilted his head, cracking his neck. Just the mention of Brian’s name pissed him off in about five different ways.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Everyone on the ranch thought you two were gonna get married someday. Over my fucking body, but still…” His eyes searched mine, anxious. “Do you… do you have feelings for him? Is that it?”
“We were just friends, James.”
“Friends who’ve kissed.”
“It wasn’t like that—” I shook my head, trying to shove the memories away, but they pushed their way back in. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Why not? What happened between you two?”
I looked away and rolled onto my side of the bed. “You.”
James frowned. “Me?”
I nodded.
“He was jealous. All the time. Of you. How my dad trusted you with the ranch’s security. How you could fix anything. How you were always at my house, playing cards with Michael late at night.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I took a slow breath. “I don’t like talking about it because the last time I saw him… we argued.”
There was more to say. A lot more. But I wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
James looked like he wanted to break something, or someone, but didn’t speak. He just stared at the floor, like the silence between us was safer than anything he could say.
Then he tucked his face into the crook of my neck and blew out a long breath.
“I’m sorry I caused all that,” he said quietly. “And… I’m sorry I hurt you that first time. Last week, on the roof.”
“You didn’t,” I said softly. “It’s normal. Happens the first time.”
“But you were in pain. I could see it in your face,” he muttered, shaking his head, clearly torn up. “It’s different with you. I just… I wanna protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
He looked up at me, and everything was right there in his blue eyes.
All the things he didn’t know how to fix.
And for a second, I didn’t see the man hardened by years of fighting.
I saw the twenty-three-year-old boy underneath, the one who never got to be a normal teenager because the world stole that from him.
“From everything.”
“Everything?” I echoed.
“Yeah. From your little accidents. The cold. This whole fucked-up world.”
I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I already feel safe with you. And to be fair, I almost broke your dick that night.”
He laughed against my neck before looking at me again.
“You nearly finished me before I even started,” he said. “That’s what you do to me. I feel like I’m gonna explode just from seeing you…”—he kissed my jaw—“from kissing you…”—another kiss, this time to my lips—“from touching you.”
I melted into his mouth. “You make it sound like I’m dangerous.”
“You are,” he whispered. “You’re lethal. And I’d still choose you.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
We stayed quiet, wrapped up in each other. My cheek rested on his chest again, his arm holding me close, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.
My fingers traced the scars I knew as well as my own now, from his arms to his shoulders, down to his abs, then up to his chest. A map of his past, written in skin.
Nathan’s family still called him Outsider. They didn’t know his real name. When they started staying with us, James told Michael and me not to use it around them. Neither of us questioned it.
Michael didn’t need to—probably because, deep down, he already knew the answer. After all, Outsiders were seen as the villains in this world. And me? I wanted James to tell me why on his own.
“You’ve got a question, don’t you?” he said, fingers lazily twirling one of my braids. “And it’s about me.”
I wanted to talk to him for hours. Know every little thing. He once told me his mother was a ballerina but never mentioned his father. I wanted to know where he went all those years on the road, how he ended up here in Colorado, what his life was before the world lost its colors.
“Your scars,” I said softly. “How did you get them?”
“My scars…” He repeated the words like they tasted strange in his mouth. Then his whole face changed. “I don’t talk about my life in Texas.”
“You can tell me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“But why?”
“Because there’s a lot of death in it,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering with something dark, something he didn’t want me to see.
That wasn’t what I expected him to say. Still, I wanted to help. I just wanted to make it easier for him.
“And if I promise not to leave the school again, will you tell me about them?” I asked, tapping my finger against my lips, trying to sound innocent.
He gave me a look.
“Nice try. But you sneak out every single day, and the only reason I catch you is ’cause I never stop watching you.”
He had a point. Every time I tried to sneak off to explore the town, I somehow ended up in a closet… with his lips on mine. Not exactly a punishment.
“Okay,” I said, switching tactics. “Tell me your favorite food instead.”
“Apple pie. You?”
I gasped, clutching my chest. “Okay, you’re lucky you’re hot.”
James chuckled. “I know it’s chocolate.”
“Okay, you’re safe… for now.” I shot him a playful warning look. “What kind of music do you like?”
“Mostly country. You?”
“You did see I was wearing my dad’s old AC/DC T-shirt, right?”
He shook his head, amused by my answer. He kept playing with the end of my braid, curling the strands through his fingers, and I could feel him letting his guard down.
“Favorite memory?” I asked.
“The roof.”
My heart slammed against my ribs just thinking about it. Our first time, under a sky full of stars. I bit my lip, fighting a smile, though my cheeks were probably already giving me away.
“Okay, second-best memory.”
He was quiet for a beat. Then he said, “My mom dancing in the theater.”
My chest warmed. He was talking about his past again without even realizing it.
“Ballerina, right?”
He nodded.
“She was like a living dream. Beautiful. A famous ballerina, danced in New York and London. My dad never missed a single performance.”
“What was her name?”
“Charlotte,” he said softly, like he hadn’t said it in a long time, but he never forgot how. “She loved dancing in the living room, right in front of the fireplace. She was the heart of our family. The only thing she ever cooked was apple pies. Everything else, the cooks handled.”
I frowned. “You had cooks?”
James scratched his jaw. “Yeah… my family was really rich.”
We might’ve grown up in different worlds, but now we were in the same one.
“But even with the best security money could buy, my dad used to tell her the same thing: ‘If someone calls you princess like they know you, treat them like an enemy. No smiles. No small talk.’” He looked at me. “That goes for you, too.”
His eyes drifted to my braids, unfocused. “Dad was different around her. He never liked talking about his life before Mom.”
“Like father, like son, huh?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
“You miss him. I can see it.”
James didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for his pocket watch beside the mattress and turned it over so I could see the name engraved on the back.
“Yeah,” he said at last. “Andrew Hill. The most ruthless businessman in Texas. Built half of the skyscrapers in Dallas.”
“Wait, your dad built skyscrapers… and you’re scared of heights?”
I giggled, and James shot me a warning look.