Chapter 11 #2
“Being forgotten,” she says it quickly, like ripping off a bandage. “Dying alone with no one to remember I existed. You?”
I swallow hard. “Failing the people who count on me.”
Our eyes lock, and something passes between us, an understanding that goes deeper than words.
“Give me that.” She lunges for the book again, but I hold it higher, out of her reach.
“Ask nicely, princess.” I smirk as she stretches, fingertips brushing the book’s spine.
“Hand it over.”
I dangle it higher. “Not until you admit blue is your favorite color.”
“You’re insufferable. Give it.”
“Make me.”
She crawls over me, straddling my hips, and presses her weight against me as she reaches again. The sudden pressure of her body against mine sends blood rushing south.
“Dirty tactics,” I manage, voice rougher than intended.
“All’s fair in…” She freezes, probably realizing our position. Her thighs bracket mine, her chest nearly touching my face.
“In what?” I lower the book slightly, distracted by the way her pulse jumps at the base of her throat.
She shifts, a tiny movement that drags a groan from deep within me. Does she know what kind of effect she has on me?
“Book.” Her command lacks conviction, especially when her eyes drop to my mouth. “Now.”
I toss the book aside without looking. It hits something with a dull thud. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” She doesn’t move off me, though. Just hovers there, her breathing shallow, pupils dilating.
“You gonna get off me?” I settle my hands on her hips.
“Do you want me to?”
Fuck. This girl’s gonna be the death of me.
“Not particularly.” My hand travels up her spine, feeling each vertebra like I’m memorizing her blueprint. “But you should know what you’re starting.”
“Oh, I think I have some idea. But it’s not first date approved.”
“Is that so?” I kiss the exposed curve of her chest. “Next question then. If we were a couple, what would our Sunday mornings look like?”
“Mhm.” She presses her palms against my chest, dropping fully into my lap, and I’m instantly aware of every point where our bodies touch. “Sunday mornings? Well, I’d sleep in while you’re already up doing push-ups or something equally masochistic.”
“You’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” I move up to her collarbone, feeling her shiver.
“Then you’d make me coffee. Black for you, sugar and cream for me.” Her head tilts back, giving me better access. “You’d try to read something serious while I flip through fashion magazines that don’t exist anymore.”
I rest my hand on her perfect ass. “And then?”
“Then…” Her voice drops to a whisper as she grinds against my hardness. “Use your imagination.”
I dig my fingers into her ass cheeks, holding her still before I lose my damn control. “Not exactly what I had in mind when I planned this date.” After yesterday, I don’t want her to feel like this is just physical for me.
“Fine. I’ll stop torturing you.” She collapses against my chest, her weight a perfect pressure pinning me to the cushions. Her hair spills across my collarbone, tickling my neck, and her breath comes in little puffs against my skin. “For now.”
I wrap my arm around her. She fits against me like she was designed for it, the curve of her hip melting under my palm, her legs weaving through mine, her head finding its home beneath my chin.
“Ask me.” Her fingers curl into my shirt, gripping like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “Ask me if I’ll go with you.” A heartbeat passes. “To your community.”
I need a rewind to be sure she just said that. I cup her face, tilting it toward mine so I can see her eyes. Those green eyes that have haunted me since I first saw them. “Paris—”
“Ask.”
My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Will you?”
She holds my gaze, something fierce and vulnerable battling in her expression. Then—a nod. Just once. Decisive. “Yes.”
Everything in me lightens, like I’ve been carrying a weight I didn’t recognize until it lifted.
I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in. “You sure? It won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worth having is.” Her lips brush mine, not quite a kiss. “Besides, I’ve spent enough time talking to appliances.”
I laugh against her mouth. “Poti will be devastated.”
“Telly’s the jealous one. He’s always watching.”
“I’ll win him over.”
I close the distance between us, claiming her mouth in a kiss that’s been building since she straddled me.
Her lips part with a sigh that makes my blood boil, and I tangle my fingers in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the connection.
She tastes like popcorn and possibility, her body melting against mine like she’s been waiting for this her whole life.
When we break apart, her eyes are hazy, pupils blown wide, and a smudge of glitter sparkles on my thumb where I’ve touched her face.
“First date approved?” I ask, voice rough as gravel.
Her teeth catch her lip, swollen from my attention. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I draw her closer, my lips finding the sensitive spot below her ear that made her moan last night. “First dates usually end with a goodnight kiss.”
“And second dates?” Her fingers slip under my shirt, exploring the ridges of my stomach with feather-light touches that make my muscles jump.
I nip at her earlobe. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I would, actually. I missed a lot of normal.”
Something shifts inside me—protective, possessive, fucking terrifying. “I’ll give you all the normal you want.”
For however long she’ll have me.
I lift the hem of her top, hunger beating a rhythm in my blood. She arches toward me, arms raised in silent permission. I drag the fabric upward, revealing the canvas of her skin inch by inch.
She’s perfect.
Circular marks dot her arms and chest, old puncture wounds like silver constellations mapping pain I wasn’t there to witness.
My fingertips hover above her skin, afraid my calloused hands—hands that have killed, hands that have broken—aren’t gentle enough for something so precious.
Too late, Sullivan. Always too fucking late. Where were you when she needed you?
I wasn’t there then. But I’m here now.
In one swift move, I flip our positions, pinning her beneath me on the cushions. Her hair fans out across the pillows, dark against light.
“Knox,” she breathes, trying to cover herself.
“Don’t.” I catch her wrists gently, placing one above her head. “Let me see you.”
That perfect pink tone spreads across her chest, rising to her cheeks.
I lift her other wrist, examining the pattern of scars more closely. “What kind of treatments require this many injections?”
She turns her head, avoiding my eyes. “I told you I was sick.”
“Sorry. I know. I—” I lower my mouth to her forearm, pressing my lips to each mark. One by one, as if I could erase them. Her breathing quickens, body tensing, then melting beneath me. “I wish I’d been there.” Another kiss, this one at the crook of her elbow. “Holding your hand.”
Her laugh lacks humor. “My hero.”
“Did you suffer much?” I move to her shoulder, where three scars cluster in a triangle.
“Yes.” She shivers as my lips brush the sensitive skin. “But necessary.”
I trace a particularly deep mark below her collarbone with my tongue. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging until I meet her gaze, and I stop, because tears mixed with fear swim in her eyes.
“Knox.” Her voice drops to barely a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”
I stroke her cheek, feeling her lean into my touch. “I’m listening.”