45. Bad habits – Aurora
45
BAD HABITS
AURORA
H e lets out a long, loud sigh, and it blows some of the sexual tension from the room, but replaces it with a different sort.
“I’ve got to ask,” he says with a guilt-laced grimace. “Have you thought about it?”
My gaze rakes over him. Have I thought about what he might look like under those clothes? What sort of new territory he might discover if I gave him free rein of my body?
“If you’ll help us,” he adds, and I wish the floor would swallow me up.
Of course that’s what he meant. It’s the actual reason he wanted to bring me down here. I knew it from the moment I agreed to follow him.
My fingernails bite hard into my palms.
“Of course I’ve thought about it.”
It’s all I’ve been able to think about since this morning.
And I do want to help. I think I might’ve already said yes if it weren’t for not feeling like I can fully trust Atticus, and Elijah being so loudly against it. How can I agree to help if Elijah doesn’t want me to?
It’s his family’s legacy, after all. It was him who was held captive and hurt. Atticus and Seven would have suffered in their own ways—probably going crazy worrying about him and trying to find him—but ultimately, this feels like Elijah’s vengeance, and if he doesn’t want me to be a part of it, then who the hell am I to insert myself where I’m not wanted?
“And?”
My mouth is dry and I have to wet my lips and swallow before I can speak. “Elijah doesn’t want me to be a part?—”
“Eli doesn’t know what he’s saying. We’ve been trying to take down Ambrose forever. He’ll never find real peace until this is over. Until it’s fixed .”
I want to ask Atticus if it’s him who won’t find peace until it’s over. Judging by the almost manic look on his face, he’s the one who can’t seem to let go. Maybe it’s because he left. He wasn’t there to help them while they grieved, or stop Elijah from leaving.
“I failed them, Aurora. I should have been more suspicious of Ambrose. I should’ve seen what the bastard really was. Fuck, I never should’ve left, and…and when Eli didn’t come home, I should’ve been able to find him, but I fucking couldn’t.”
He comes nearer, forcing me to retreat a step as he crowds me in against the shelves.
“Let me try to fix it. Eli’s right, it won’t be easy, and it will have risks, but I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to you.”
My skin prickles as the warmth of his scent and body surround me. Making it harder to breathe.
I move to shoulder past him, but his arms come up to cage me in against the shelf.
“Wait,” he whispers harshly, the word gusting against the baby-fine hairs on the top of my head. Was he always this fucking tall? I crane my neck to glare up at him, but his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m sorry. Fuck .”
He backs up a few inches, not enough for me to get past, but enough that I stop thinking about kneeing him in the junk.
“I’m not good at this.”
“No, you’re really not.”
He barks out a laugh and looks down at me in a way that makes goosebumps erupt on my skin.
Down, girl.
This one’s a bad idea.
Those red flags are not a carnival.
Abort .
Atticus trails the tips of his fingers down my jaw.
Stop him.
I should stop him.
“I can see why they like you,” he says on a breath that tastes like mint and chocolate on my tongue.
My lips fall open, and he takes the opportunity to run his thumb along the lower one, licking his own like he’s imagining how I might taste.
What is happening right now?
My body starts to overheat and I almost melt into the shelves against my back.
“I don’t mean to be so pushy.” His words are a whisper. A lie. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s damn good at it. The fucker. “It’s a bad habit.”
His gaze drops to my mouth and an ache spreads like wildfire in my belly. I clamp my jaw against the sound trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he says, misreading me.
“I never said I was,” I snap back, surprised at how bold my voice sounds.
His eyes spark with amusement as he snatches my wrists from my sides and pins them above me with one hand.
“How about now?” He hums, making me gasp as his other one brushes along my waist, gripping at the curve of my hip. When he leans in close enough that his breath fans over my lips, I shiver.
“Not even remotely.”
My lips part, but he doesn’t close that tiny gap, instead he holds me there, suspended in time, like he hasn’t just tied me to a stake and set me on fire. My chest is hot, and it’s making my breaths come fast and hard as I try to breathe through the burning.
“That’s not what your eyes are telling me.”
I shouldn’t be so curious about what that glint in his eye could mean. What he might be able to do with those strong hands of his. I may not be a cat, but curiosity could kill me just as easily. Especially if the look he’s giving me is any indication.
In them is a threat, and a promise .
Danger, and desire.
When he speaks, his lips are so close that they brush mine.
Teasing me. Taunting me. Testing me .
“Is that so?”
He nods.
“And what are my eyes saying now?”
His next words are a growl that I feel like claws shredding away my resolve. “They’re begging me to stop.”
My thighs squeeze; body at war with mind.
“Will you?”
Atticus’s lips pull back in a half snarl. “I should.”
His Adam’s apple bobs and he shakes his head. “I really fucking should.”
His head drops, and he steps back so quickly I almost stumble forward, but I’m still caught in his web. Gripping onto the shelves behind me so tight my knuckles crack when I let go. I struggle to catch my breath as Atticus rubs a palm over his mouth.
Fresh oxygen soaks into my lungs, but it’s not enough to wash away the scent of him still clinging to the air around me.
“Maybe you should go,” he says in a dangerous tone. “I don’t want you to do anything you…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, and I’m not sure what to say because I’m not even fucking sure what I want anymore. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I wanted to stab him in the dick. Now, here I am, wanting him to stab me with his dick.
I’d blame biology, but I know it’s just plain old insanity.
Where’s that lobotomy when I need it?
Might as well stop toeing the line with madness and jump in with both feet.
“If I agree to your plan, do you really think you can keep me alive?”
Atticus whips his attention back to me at the abrupt subject shift. His eyes narrow like he thinks this is a trick.
It’s not.
“I do,” he says.
“Because you know they’ll blame you if you can’t.”
Hope crackles like embers in his eyes. “I’m aware.”
“Then I’ll do it.”