Chapter 25 #2
“I didn’t do this.”
Going on as if I didn’t speak, he says, “—and you’ve barely said more than a few sentences. Or tried anything. I just…I don’t fucking get you.”
My brows slant inward. “Get…what about me?”
He drops a glare on me, looking pissed and accusatory. As if I should already know what it is he’s talking about.
Spoiler alert: I really don’t.
His gaze bores into me for another long moment before he tears it away with a shake of his head.
“Forget it. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.
” He runs a hand through his hair, and mutters something under his breath I can’t make out, before abruptly pushing away from the wall and heading for the door.
Heading toward danger.
I’m scrambling after him before I even realize what I’m doing, grabbing his arm like it’s not the appendage of someone who’s more likely to snap my neck than ever press his lips to it. “Wait, don’t!”
He turns his head toward me.
“Don’t leave me,” I croak, my eyes beseeching his hardened ones. I gulp, and give a quick shake of my head, tugging on his arm to drag him deeper into the bathroom. At first, he doesn’t budge.
But then he does. He lets me draw him away from the door.
Breathing heavily, I don’t stop walking us until my back hits something. The wooden siding of a stall. Nor do I take my hot desperate eyes off his.
My head throbs in time with my thundering pulse, but I barely notice. The ache, the blackness edging along my vision, the way sweat has made a home across my neck…
It’s all just background static to my senses as I home in on the warm point of contact where my hands curl around his strong, corded forearm.
For a moment, we stand frozen facing on another.
Not breaking his gaze, I feel my lips move, repeated words uttering quietly from my throat. “Don’t leave me.”
Memories poke at my awareness—warped echoes of conversation. Of pleas.
His tongue pokes out to wet his lips when his gaze drops to my parted lips. My mouth dries, and my fingers flex over his arm. He slants his head, and either I’m straight-up hallucinating, or the distance between us really is shrinking, narrowing into the pinpoint that is his descending mouth.
My grip on him spasms as I’m awash in his familiar woodsy scent. I suck in a sharp breath—
And just like that, the moment’s over.
Ripped from me, not unlike his arm when he tears himself away. He moves almost inhumanly fast across the room to where he faces me with his back to the sinks.
With a scowl, he shakes his head, glaring at me once more like what just happened is my fault.
I scowl back at him. Rude. He’s the one who tried to leave during a lockdown.
Why that pisses me off so much, I don’t know.
All I know is this anger feels so much better than what I was feeling a moment ago—hell, what I’ve been feeling since the moment he left me sitting on the locker room floor, trembling and practically hyperventilating—so I latch onto it. And it feels good.
“Fuck you, Vale,” I spit. I’m not even sure it’s even him I’m angry with. But I don’t want to look too closely as to what’s really pissing me off.
His eyes flare with surprise, before narrowing into slits. “Excuse me?”
Danger radiates from him, but it does nothing to temper the blood boiling hotly in my veins. I stalk toward him, relishing the way his eyes narrow, flashing with violence. The way his posture turns to stone. “You heard me. I said fuck. You.”
A hand shoots out, gripping me by the throat, hauling me up against him.
Nose to nose, he snarls, “Now, now, sugar. That wasn’t very nice.”
He’s so close, I can taste the faint traces of toothpaste and coffee on his breath. A weird combination—one that should be gross—and yet I crane forward with a feral snap of my teeth, desperate with some primal driven need to get a taste for myself.
His eyes dart all around my face, taking in my bared teeth and hot, tingling cheeks and my blazing glare aimed right at him. Some emotion gathers like a storm in his eyes, darkening his expression, making him look all the more imposing.
And down-right sexy.
Beautiful even.
Dangerously so.
His hold on my throat is tight, but not so tight I can’t breathe. Or speak. And when I finally manage to form words, it’s the last thing I ever expected to say that tumbles free.
“I would’ve stayed away.”
His brows flare.
“You told me to stay away, and I did,” I squeeze out thickly. “I would have backed off like you asked.”
“Bullshit,” he says simply, his gaze leveled with mine.
Ignoring that, I go on, “But you…you just had to go getting my hopes up by asking around about m—” His hold on me tightens, sealing my airway, and stealing my voice. In doing so, I’m lifted practically off my feet, and my fingers come to his forearms, gripping and scrambling for dear life.
“I told you,” he says slowly in a voice devoid of all emotion. “I wanted confirm—”
“Bull. Shit,” I seethe inaudibly, throwing back his own words. I know a liar when I see one.
His eyes widen a fraction, like maybe he read my mind.
I jut my chin at him over his curled fingers, silently daring him to try and fool me. He’ll fail. He has to know he’ll fail.
He eyes me up and down, before nodding as if confirming something for himself. “Hm.”
That’s it. That’s all he has to say for himself apparently.
Mirth fractures his gaze into diamonds as a smug smile plays on his lips. Even amused, he looks positively evil. Like a predator eyeing up his prey…that prey being me.
Even still…it does nothing to hide what’s behind it.
A whole lot of nothing.
He suddenly releases my neck with a little shove. I stumble to find my balance, bringing my fingers to my throat. A glance at the mirror behind him shows some redness, but I doubt there will be bruises.
My gaze springs back to his. Before I can even process all that just happened, and muster up some kind of response, the PA System crackles to life, and an automated voice announces it’s all-clear. Lockdown over.
My gut sinks, and I don’t miss the way Vale’s mouth tightens ever the slightest. Like he too might be disappointed our…moment or whatever has come to an end.
But it’s probably just wishful thinking.
Regardless, he doesn’t immediately tear himself away. For a long moment we stand frozen in place, simply staring into each other’s eyes. Searching for something so far beyond my grasp, I can’t even find it in me to make an effort to reach for it. Whatever it is.
Heck, I can’t even find it in me to crack a flirty joke.
It’s as if every weapon in my arsenal to wall myself off has abandoned me, leaving this…sad, needy, pathetic person I barely even recognize. It makes me twitchy. Has me clawing my nails into my palms. Has me itching for my knife.
Vale’s brow knits, and his gaze drops to my lips, a troubled look creasing his features. It’s there and gone so fast, but I know what I saw.
And it hits me suddenly.
Was he going to kiss me before?
I can still feel the phantom pressure of his fingers around my throat—their scalding heat. Their deadly promise.
I can still taste his breath on my tongue.
Kissing Vale…it’s not really something I ever let myself hope for, not until last week when I really thought for a moment we might.
And fuck me, it hurts.
Aches something fierce.
Because now that my anger’s faded, and I’m stripped raw of anything else to protect me from the truth, I can’t help but feel like I…like I lost something.
Again.
Vale opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, only he must think better of it, because he just shakes his head, and mumbles something under his breath I can’t make out.
And then, far too soon for my liking, he’s turning away, taking what feels like the air filling this room with him.
It’s not until he reaches the door, his hand gripping the handle, that he pauses.
I wait for him to look back. Say something.
But he does neither.
His back rises with his deep breath, and then he’s gone, the door swinging to a quiet close behind him.
And I’m left alone with nothing but his lingering woodsy scent and the image of his face tattooed across my mind to hold on to.
Nothing but my still-pounding pulse and the ghost of his touch to prove he was even here at all.