Chapter Fourteen
Two
Ithink we just had a date.
Sure as fuck felt that way.
The urge to touch Gemma again is overwhelming, but thankfully, we’re done with our food. I bolt out of the booth and storm outside, not bothering to wait for her.
If I wait, I might try to touch her again.
Her skin was so soft. I want to touch her hair next.
There can’t be a next time, Two.
I burst out of the building, hightailing it to the Rover. When I see a flyer fluttering under the windshield wiper on the passenger side, I slow to a stop. Tucked in next to it is a winter aconite flower—a hearty yellow flower often seen popping up through snow.
Gemma sucks in a sharp breath of air as she stops beside me. She starts forward, but I race her over to it. Snatching the paper out before she can, I bring it to my face to read.
No one adores you like I do. Especially not him. The way he touches you is wrong. When I touch you, it’ll be more than right. It’ll be perfect. You’ll see.
Anger swells up inside me as the letter crumples in my fist. Gemma, with her soft, small fingers, pries it out of my ferocious grip. Her shoulders hunch after she reads it.
“Who the fuck is doing this?” I demand, feeling shockingly protective over her. “This is more than a super fan, Gemma. This is psychotic.”
She throws the yellow flower onto the street and stomps on it, completely distracted by the act of destroying it. “You called me Gemma.”
I grunt in frustration. “Focus. We need to go to the cops.”
“No,” she hisses, whirling around to face me, shaking her head. “It’s not a big deal. They’re just trying to scare me.”
People are starting to stare at us and this shit is none of their business.
“Get in,” I bark out as I open her car door. “Now.”
She scowls at me but obeys. Once I’ve climbed in on my side, I attempt to turn over the engine. Naturally, it doesn’t start.
“You’re downplaying this,” I growl, relieved when the engine starts on the second try. “Why?”
Gemma huffs and shrugs. “Because if my dad gets wind of this, it’s going to suck. He’ll go into overprotective mode and watch me like a hawk. I barely just got my freedom when I started college. I can’t have it taken away over some stupid person trying to scare me.”
I back out of the parking spot and gas it, making sure to watch my rearview mirror in case anyone is following us. “What if it’s more than a scare tactic? What if it’s a warning? A fucking promise. I don’t like this.”
“And you think I do?” Her voice is shrill. “I’m worried, Two. My family has dealt with not one but two abductions in the past few years. I know the Park name draws attention and freaks are always out to get us. But I also can’t let these people dictate my life.”
“You’re not even going to tell your parents?”
“Nope.”
We drive in mutually irritated silence. I think she’s being stupid as fuck not reporting this to anyone. It makes me realize she needs protection. Right now, I’m the only protection she’s got.
Unbelievable.
When we reach my house, I’m happy to see both my parents’ vehicles are gone. Saturdays are a busy day at work for them. Sometimes they even recruit me to come help, though they do try to hold back doing that while I’m in school. Summers are always fair game, though.
After shutting off the car, we collect our bags and make several trips to bring all our findings from Hemingford Hall into my workshop. Neither of us is speaking to one another at the moment. I’m still pissed and apparently, she is too. I have half a mind to text Tate and ask him how I deal with this girl since he’s the professional and all.
“It’s cold,” Gemma mutters, hugging herself and shivering.
I crank up the dial on the space heater. “Sure it’s just the cold and not adrenaline?”
“Can we just drop it? I want to work on our project, not analyze this stupid stalker. If we can pretend it’s not happening, it’ll make things a lot easier.”
Prowling over to her, I frown. “You can’t just pretend it away, Golden. That kind of thinking is stupid. You’ll be more vulnerable that way.”
She lifts her chin, bottom lip slightly quivering. “Please.”
“No.” Before I can stop myself, I reach up and touch her. Again. Gently, I stroke my thumb along the bottom of her chin. “I’m not going to let some asshole terrorize you.”
Her lips curl into a devilish grin that has my dick thickening. “I already have some asshole terrorizing me. What’s one more?”
She licks her dry bottom lip. The action trips a wire inside of me. My mouth descends upon hers. I don’t stop to think or talk myself out of it. I simply put my lips on her perfect ones I can’t seem to stop staring at.
“Oh,” she mutters, voice soft but not alarmed.
As her lips part, I dart my tongue into her mouth, eager to taste her. She moans and fuck if it doesn’t scramble my already messed up head. I slide my fingers into her ultra-glossy hair, tugging her closer so I can devour her sweet mouth.
She’s not supposed to taste so goddamn delicious.
Why does this kiss feel like something I’ve been aching for my entire life?
Her palms skate up my chest over my hoodie and then her fingertips are probing the sides of my neck. We kiss with fire a thousand times hotter than the steady warmth pouring from the space heater. All the animosity I have for her feels forgotten in this moment. She feels like mine right now and I want to savor her.
My hands roam down her body until I find her narrow hips. She squeaks when I lift her, setting her on a nearby stool. Then, to my delight, she spreads her thighs, welcoming me to stand between them. From this angle, I can own her mouth with mine, exploring all the soft, slippery corners of it. Her whimpers and gasps are music to my ears and a motherfucking tease to my dick.
She freezes when my cold hand slides beneath her hoodie. Her flesh is hot and silky. I can’t help but caress it with my thumb, desperate to explore more of her.
How did we get here?
How do we stop?
A mewl rattles out of her throat as I tease my fingers up higher and around to her back. The clasp of her bra easily comes undone. By the time my palm is back to her front, sliding over her naked breast beneath the cup of her bra, we’re both panting. Her nipple is hard and small like a pebble. I crave to have it between my teeth.
“Two,” she murmurs. “Two, stop.”
With a grunt, I pull back, letting go of her and stepping away. Her lips are swollen, red, and parted. It’s her eyes that do me in. Her pupils are blown and the look in them says she wants to do anything but stop.
Reality seeps in, rushing over me like a frigid avalanche. My dick deflates as I realize who I’m here with and what I’m doing with her.
It’s Golden.
Number one.
The first choice.
Shuddering, I stagger away from her until my ass hits another table behind me. She winces and then awkwardly fidgets for her bra clasp under her hoodie.
What did we almost do?
How could I have been so stupid?
“I just wanted to talk for a second,” Gemma says, eyes pleading. “Stop looking at me like I’m roadkill right now. Please.”
As she approaches, I sidestep toward the door, one hand out in front of me. Her brows knit together and hurt flashes in her eyes.
“Why are you this way toward me?” Her voice trembles and fat tears well in her pretty blue eyes. “What’s so wrong with me?”
Guilt infects my every cell. Knowing what I know about her thus far, not being adored and seen as perfect is really hard on her. Yet, here I am making her feel like shit.
“Tell me, Two. It’s not fair. How can I fix it if you don’t tell me?”
I scrub a palm over my face. “You can’t fix it, Golden. It just is.”
“What is? Explain.”
She slowly makes her way over to me and then gently steps into my space. Automatically, my hands encircle her waist. So much for showing some self-restraint.
“Two,” she begs. “I feel like we can be something. You just have to let it happen. It won’t with this big boulder between us. Please.”
Unable to help myself, I nuzzle the top of her head with my nose, inhaling her sweet scent. My palms find her ass, settling there, like they were made to hold her. She relaxes against my chest, hugging me tight.
This feels good.
Too good.
“You really want to know?” I ask, voice hoarse. “You’re not going to ridicule me or run off after?”
“I’ve put up with you thus far. I think I can handle whatever you dish out.”
I smile against her hair, but it quickly vanishes when I think about the picture I found all those years ago. Pain lances its way through my heart.
“I’m adopted,” I say softly. “My dads adopted me when I was two. It’s the only word I could say at the time, so the nickname kind of stuck.”
She squeezes me again to encourage me to keep talking.
“My guess is that people wanted a baby and would ask my age a lot. I was probably always picked over for adoption. Not like I can remember it anyway.”
“Oh, Two.”
“I’m not being dramatic either,” I say with a defensive grunt. “It’s just the way of life.” A heavy sigh escapes me. “All was good until I was nine. My dads were the best. I love them so fucking much.”
“I can tell,” she murmurs. “I think it’s sweet.”
“Dax told me there wasn’t a Santa. Said he could prove it. One day, I went searching through Dad’s things, looking for presents, and found a trunk. Inside it were the adoption papers and…”
I shudder at revealing the most hurtful thing that’s ever happened to me. To the perpetrator no less.
It’s not her fault, dumbass.
“I learned I was their second choice,” I choke out, voice strained with emotion. “They had a picture of a nursery set up for someone before me. A baby. A little girl.” I clear my throat and spit out, “Gemma.”
She freezes and then pulls back to look up at me. “What?”
“You. It was you.”
“It couldn’t be,” she whispers. “I was never going to be put up for adoption.”
The devastation in her expression has me stalling. I didn’t think this might hurt her. She wasn’t the victim. I was. But she’s learning that she was almost given away.
“Never mind.”
She shakes her head in vehemence. “No. Do not do that. Finish your story.”
“The letter was from Jamie. Your mom. Said she was working things out with Nathan and that she wasn’t going through with the adoption. She apologized profusely and said she’d honor my dads by keeping the name they’d chosen for a little girl.”
A tear streaks down her cheek. Then another. Another. Before long, the dam breaks and Gemma is boo-hooing in her palms.
Fuck.
I did this.
I broke her.
For years, I dreamed of this moment and now it fucking sucks.
“I always felt second best,” I manage to whisper despite the pain cutting into my throat. “You were always the one. And then…” I trail off and shudder. “I met you in class, put two and two together, and realized I was forced to work with the person solely responsible for my pain.”
She lowers her hands, face red and splotchy. “Two, I am so sorry.”
I blink in shock when she throws herself back into my arms. This time, as she sobs, I feel my own cheeks growing wet. It’s not the first time I’ve cried over this shit, but it’s the first time I’ve done it with someone else.
“We’re going to get through this,” Gemma vows, breath hot against my chest. “I promise.”
Hope prickles at my chest. “But I hate you.”
“You might once have, but it won’t last.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She tilts her head up and then stands on her toes. Her mouth connects with mine. The fiery connection from before is reignited. Both of us shamelessly try to out-devour each other.
She’s right.
The last thing I’m thinking about right now is hate.