11. Bella
ELEVEN
Bella
The next day…
I wheel my case out of my room. It contains a toothbrush, a couple of pairs of underwear Lily gave me when I first got here, and a couple of hotel blankets. I get the feeling I might be back on the streets tonight. I might need them.
The hallway is quiet, almost eerily so. I’m hoping to leave before anyone notices. But as I turn the corner, Alex is there, leaning against the wall, like he knew I’d be here at this time.
“Why am I not surprised?” I blurt out, my heart skipping a beat. “It’s five in the morning and you’re just standing there like you’re waiting for a bus.”
He straightens up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I hoped to catch you,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “You’ll be much safer here where I can keep an eye on you.”
We stand there for a moment, the tension thick in the air. I cross my arms, trying to look defiant. “I saw you hitting that man last night.”
His eyes darken, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“What did you do to him?”
“I killed him.”
Even though I was half expecting to hear those words, they still turn my blood cold. “You killed him? That simple, is it?”
He nods. “I told you to be careful what questions you ask me.”
“I could call the cops, have you arrested for murder. You just confessed.”
“You won’t do that.”
I glare at him. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”
“You going to call the cops?”
“No, but that’s not the point.”
He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze intense. “The point is that I care about you, more than I should. I’m putting my career in jeopardy over you. Disappear and it’s for nothing. I can’t protect you if you’re on the streets.”
“Protect me from what?” My voice gets louder. “This is something to do with my father. Everyone else seems to know what it is but me. What is going on?”
He takes a step toward me. “You look hot when you’re angry,” he says.
“Way to ignore my question.”
“You’re not afraid of me. Everyone else is. Why don’t you fear me?”
“Should I?”
“I just told you I killed a man.”
I shake my head. “You won’t hurt me. I can tell.”
His expression changes, hunger flashing across his eyes. “I shouldn’t do this but I can’t resist any more.”
“Do what?”
He leans in, and his lips meet mine. The kiss is gentle at first, a soft brush of lips that sends a shiver down my spine. Then it deepens, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
I feel the warmth of his body as he pulls me closer. His hands are firm on my waist, guiding me, holding me tight against him.
Every sensation is heightened, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips on mine and the way his fingers dig into my hips. The stubble on his chin is rough against my skin. The soft, insistent pressure of his tongue as it parts my lips is overwhelming.
My hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt. I find myself responding with a fervor I didn’t know I had. My body melts against his, and a soft moan escapes my lips.
He swallows it with a deep, throaty sound that sends a thrill of pleasure through me. I feel like I’m drowning in him, in the heat and the need and the overwhelming rightness of his kiss.
When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing hard. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, his breath warm on my lips. “But I couldn’t stop myself. You’re like a drug.”
I look up at him, my heart pounding. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”
He pulls back slightly. “Go back to your room,” he says, his voice regaining its usual command. “Act as if nothing’s changed. Go to your self defense class tonight. It’s important.”
“Why is it?”
He’s already walking away, leaving me standing alone in the corridor, my lips still tingling, my body aching with frustration.