Atlas
“Fucking mess!” Summer curses, slapping the phone face-down on the nearby counter, while I keep watching her, leaning against the wall as I wait for her to realize she’s not alone.
Bracing both hands on the sink, she lowers her head for a beat. Then she looks up at her reflection, combing damp strands away from her face. She glances at her phone but doesn’t flip it over or take it when she leaves the bathroom, switching off the lights behind her.
A couple of steps inside her room are all it takes before she finally notices me and screams out a sharp, “Fuck!”
“You scared the hell out of me,” she says, one hand resting on her chest.
“Not possible. Nothing could take the hell out of you,” I retort and push myself off the wall, taking a step in her direction.
Her hands clench into fists, and she’s quick to back away, her body visibly tense.
I halt, studying her. She eyes me right back.
“Are you scared of me, honey?”
“I’m not scared. I’m cautious. There’s a huge difference,” she notes while scanning everything in close proximity, no doubt thinking of ways to defend herself if need be.
“And why are you being so cautious of me now?” I take another step, but the wall behind her prevents her from retreating any further. She’ll have to get inside the bathroom to escape me.
Not that she can ever really escape me.
“You’re here for payback, isn’t that right?” Summer says, her eyes flicking between the bathroom and the front door.
“Is payback the only reason you can think of for me being here?”
I edge closer, but she doesn’t dart for the bathroom.
“I don’t know. You tell me. What other reasons might there be?”
Does she really not see the effect she has on me? How fuckin’ bewitched I am by her?
“I’ll give you two reasons. One is the fact that you asked me a question, and I’m here to answer it.”
“Two questions,” she corrects, and I stop in my tracks, going through her messages in my mind, figuring out the second one.
“Oh, yeah. I haven’t fucked any men. But I do have an overwhelming urge to find the ones who have touched you and erase them.”
I close the distance between us until I’m standing in front of her, ready to pin her against the wall.
“You asked me what my favorite color is.”
“And you came all the way here to answer that in person?”
“I came to see that color again.”
One final step, and my chest is against hers.
I slide my hands to those fists she’s clenching, forcing them to loosen while placing her arms on my shoulders.
Encircling her waist, I pull her closer, pressing her body against mine.
She is still tangibly wary of me, and her bunny-like breathing is a telltale sign of exactly how much.
That’s on me. Last time I was kind to her, seconds later, I put a belt around her neck.
It’s what she expects now. But I don’t want her to be on edge with me. Not anymore.
“I never had a favorite color, but as of late, I do. It’s blue. But not the blue of the ocean or of the sky, just the one of your eyes.”
She blinks once. Slowly.
“Oh, come on! Now I’m sure I damaged your head with that hit, when your little speech broke the scale for the cheesiest thing ever said.”
Her words come as a sharp contrast to the curled corners of her lips.
“Na-a-ah! There’s nothing wrong with my head,” I say, punctuating it with a jerky, tic-like head tilt, and a sweet laugh slips past her lips.
Summer’s hands caress the back of my neck, one of them slowly creeping up on my cheek, staying there in a gentle touch while her eyes flicker between my own and my lips, unable to decide where to settle.
“We do fit together, don’t we?”
“Perfectly!”
“And you’re really not here for a payback?”
“No more paybacks. You win.”
Her hand stills, and her eyes widen.
“I do? That easy?”
“Easy? You call what you put me through easy?” I’m sure my voice channels my surprise enough in case my face doesn’t.
“Well, I have so many more ideas for you in store.” She flashes a challenging smile, and there’s that overwhelming urge to kiss her. “What do I win?”
“Me, of course.”
“Oh!” Her hand leaves my cheek and goes to the back of my neck. “In that case, I might not be collecting my prize.”
Poking under her ribs, she squirms and starts laughing again.
“I’m kidding. That’s the best prize ever.” Summer rises on her tiptoes, stopping mere inches from my lips, hovering there with a whisper. “Atlas . . .”
My name rolls down from the tip of her tongue, sounding like a siren’s song, luring me into doing anything she requires of me even before she asks.
“Yes, love?”
“You said you came here for two reasons. What’s the second one?” Summer’s lips brush over mine, warm breath kissing me instead of her.
“I want you by my side. For tonight and every night ahead. And just so you know, I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”
I came for a sleepover. But one would never be enough.
“And just so you know—”
Her words die on my lips the second I claim her mouth, and a jolt of electricity rips through me, stronger than the one she zapped me with.
I cup the back of her neck, and then slide my tongue between her lips, going deep.
The way she opens for me—eager, unguarded—hits like a wave, making my head spin the same way it did an hour ago.
She isn’t fighting for dominance like she did in the club, but my mind is unequivocally clear that it’s fire coursing through my veins instead of blood when I kiss her.
Grabbing the back of her thighs, I force her legs to wrap around me before moving onto her seductive ass, keeping her pinned in place. She makes a throaty sound as I devour her mouth, like a starved man.
Pulling her from against the wall, I start walking for her bed when she breaks the kiss, desire and denial fighting an epic battle in her eyes.
“I’m not fucking you tonight,” she chokes out, swallowing part of that desire down.
I shouldn’t push her, and I won’t.
I’ll give her respect.
I’ll give her control.
I’ll give her everything she wants.
“Who said anything about fucking?”
“Your dick.” She glances down to where my erection is fighting through layers of fabric—both that of my jeans and her panties, pressing against her core.
“I’m always like this around you.” She gives me a coy smile. “Let’s try and get some sleep.”
Sitting on the bed with her still on my lap, her fingertips brush over my lips before she kisses me again, then scurries away to the inner side of the bed.
I strip down to my boxers and tap the space next to me as an invitation, but she still stares in a distrustful way, sitting close by, but not daring to approach further.
“Come on, baby! I don’t bite.”
She gives me the who-are-you-bullshitting look, and I cackle.
“Okay. I do, but you love it. No biting tonight. I promise.”
Summer moves gingerly when she comes to lie by my side, allowing me to snake an arm around her, while her own lands on my chest. I pull the blanket over us, and her head slants up so she can lock eyes with mine.
“Broken bones?”
“What?” I eye her, uncertain if I heard right.
“Have you had any?” She doubles down on the weird question, and it takes me a minute to figure out why she’s asking that.
“You’re trying to help with the boner, right?”
“I don’t wanna torture you tonight.”
She pushes herself up until her upper body is over mine, hands resting on my chest, chin propped above them, positioning herself so she can look at me while she talks. “Sooo, have you had any?”
“One. A broken arm when I was seventeen. We were stealing a car, and Carter tripped down some stairs, pulling me along with him. The bone was sticking out of my skin—that’s how bad it was.
He had to drag me to the car so we wouldn’t get caught.
I have quite an impressive scar I covered with a tattoo.
” I pull up my arm, showing her what I’m talking about, and her fingertips brush the ridged flesh.
She’ll eventually notice the few other scars hidden from sight, but not from mind. My father made sure I’d remember them.
“The flames look like stairs,” she notes. “Why the fuck were you stealing a car?”
“We lost a bet.”
“What about this half-clock, half-compass?” She taps at one of the tattoos on my chest.
“Time and space. To remind me our time is finite, and we shouldn’t waste even a second. One day you’re here, the next you might not be. All my friends have one like this.”
Summer taps on another tat, silently asking me about it, but I have a question of my own.
“Broken bones?”
The corners of her lips curl. Will she give me another piece of her convoluted story?
“Two. A broken toe when I was fourteen. I tried to kick my brother for the whole beating up the boy who kissed me thing. He moved, and I kicked the wall barefoot, hard enough to break my big toe.”
I shouldn’t laugh. But I do, anyway.
“That’s not funny! It hurt like hell,” she protests, pouting, and there it is—one more adorable thing about her.
“Sorry, love.” I pull her in, kissing her forehead while clearing my throat from the laughter. “And the other one?”
“At sixteen. My best friend and I were alone at her house and decided to try alcohol for the first time. We got so drunk, I don’t remember how I broke my finger.
See?” She shoves her left index finger so close to my face I go cross-eyed.
“It’s crooked. I have slim to no memory of that night.
My friend remembers everything, and when she told me about it .
. . Let’s just say, I’m not much into drinking nowadays. ”
“Now you’ve got to tell me what happened.”
Her head shakes adamantly.
Taking her left hand from where she tucked it underneath her chin, I pull it to my lips, landing a gentle kiss on her index finger.
“Is my toe next for a kiss? I think I gave you a choking kink, so why stop at that? A foot fetish is what follows.”
Her words extract another chuckle out of me. Making me smile or laugh is so effortless for her.