22. Twenty-Two #2
“Humor me, Liam. Please—why is the big bad wolf sitting at my front door?” She sips her drink.
“Big bad wolf is the least of your concern, Sara. I’m more curious about the shit you got yourself into when I should be busy figuring out Joe’s accident.” My jaw clenches. “Why the fuck is someone watching your every move?” I taste anger at her flirtation with danger.
Her eyes widen in question. “What do you mean, what about Joe’s accident? Do you think—?”
“Answer my goddamn question, Sara, I’ve let you fuck around long enough,” I snap.
Her lips flatten. “I didn’t get myself into anything! At first, I thought it was your psycho ass trying to scare me!” She waves her hand at me.
“Me? When did this start, Sara, and why wouldn’t you talk to me?” I feel my patience fraying.
She presses her fingers to her forehead, pinching her brow.
“I’m not sure, Liam, but this isn’t my doing, if that’s what you’re implying. I have no idea who that person is.”
Her grip tightens on her can. “It doesn’t help that I've felt completely helpless these past few months. And talking to you? When? between you slamming me on a wall or ripping my clothes off while I’m soaked in acid?”
Her shoulders tense, and for a moment, the mask she wears fractures, letting her inner battles leak out.
“You have a point.” I confess, remembering her panicked form under my palm. “Sara, I know how this feels and—”
“You don’t know shit Liam, you actually have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be in my head, in my body, and now in my fucking home where, in or out, darkness lurks from every imaginable corner.
” A choked sound escapes her throat as she thrusts her chair back, pivoting sharply toward the living room.
In a heartbeat, my hand encircles her wrist, yanking her to a standstill as I rise, pinning her against the table. The heat radiates from her skin, igniting my senses, and I feel the frantic pulse of her heart thrumming beneath my fingers.
“Yes, Sara. Yes, I know exactly what it’s like. That’s why I’m back so you don’t have to face this alone. You’re mine to protect, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt you.” Her gaze falls, and I tip her chin up,
“Look at me, Sara.” Her beautiful dark eyes stare back at me, setting my nerves on edge.
Her breath quickens, a sharp intake that mingles with the charged atmosphere between us, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of her pressed against me, the slight quiver in her body, the way her eyes widen with a mix of surprise and something deeper.
“You have seen too much. If you think I’m letting you go, you’re out of your Goddamn mind.
” My voice drops lower, rougher. “I'm going to hunt down that bastard, and I promise you—” I lean closer, my breath against her ear. “You’ll never have to look over your shoulder again. Anyone who comes for you will disappear so completely that their devoted mother won’t know where to leave flowers. ”
Her face flickers between terror and solace and before she can slip further away from me. I grip her waist and draw her closer to me and the world outside blurs into nothingness, where instinct reigns and scream for me to claim her, to delve into her.
The collision of our bodies is almost euphoric, and my anxiety dissolves while my heartbeat speeds up for entirely different reasons.
I thread my fingers through her hair, easing her back enough to study her because a part of me hungers to decode the ins and outs of her. With every fragment of herself that she reveals, I uncover parts of her that quiet my own damn noise.
“You talk as if you can protect me from the world.” Her lips tremble, her eyes searching into mine, deeply intertwined, and my soul feels so exposed it burns, “but what if the protection I need is from you, Liam?”
She lays her hand on my face, and I can’t help but lean into her touch. “How the hell are you supposed to save me then?”
“I’ll protect you, Sara, even if sometimes it’s messy and confusing.” I hook a strand of her hair underneath her ear. “I’m keeping you.”
She scoffs, “I’m not yours to keep, Liam.”
My hold firms around her, and a rising heat warms my blood as her eyes become wet and furious.
“I don’t need another man telling me I’m safe while he’s the one burning the match to set me ablaze.” She tears my hand away and twists free, stalking across the room. I slip one hand into my pocket, the other brushing my lower lip as I force myself to breathe evenly.
I lose touch with my next words as I take in the silhouette of her body, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the tall windows.
The soft glow highlighting the delicate curves beneath her T-shirt, accentuating the gentle swell of her breasts that teases at the fabric.
My mouth waters at this black magic beauty, this woman who is turning me into a fool.
She turns on the speakers, scrolls on a tablet, and picks a song. “Fall in Love” by Bailey Zimmerman. She slightly turns around to peek at me,
“You’re right about one thing, whoever is out there, I’d rather it be you they have to go through.”
And something cracks in me at her words.
Only then do I notice she wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to shield her fierce, fragile heart.
Compulsion takes over me and I'm behind her, pulling her against my chest and folding my arms around her.
Relieved that she lets me, burying my face in her hair as her head tilts back, resting against me.
The tremor in her breath, with each shaky inhale is a silent plea.
“I got you…” I whisper in her ear. She needs to know she's not alone and I’ll be here to remind her as often as it takes, even if she wishes I wasn’t on the same plane of existence. I felt the same way about her a few months ago, life is funny that way.
Beneath that desire to comfort her, a deeper need stirs within me, to know that she's real, that she’s breakable, that she can mend and bend until all she can do is beg me to put her back together.
This moment, the moonlight, the solitude seeping out of her, both of our grief heavy as anchors drowning us as we beg to come back up for air.