Chapter 12 #3
“Go ahead.” When I waved my hand dismissively, he continued. “So you’ve had a shitty life. It’s not an excuse to push people away. Not a good one anyway.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know anything about me past what Renshu told you to ask.”
“Let’s start with you telling me something real. Nothing from a notecard and nothing I need to repeat in a godawful interview. Less ambiguous than poetry would be ideal.”
I blinked slowly, still looking at his hands. My thoughts went to Cole, to his endless assurances that things were going to be different. They were always going to be different. When I touched my lip with my thumb, I could almost taste blood.
“Okay,” I decided after a minute. “You pick.”
“Really?”
I shrugged. “Why not? I have nothing to hide.”
“What happened to your parents?”
Breathing a laugh, I finally looked at him. “Had that one in the chamber, did you?”
He was incredibly composed, a prince on his throne with the sun turning his eyes to mahogany. The corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t say anything.
“They died,” I told him.
“I see.”
He didn’t look surprised, nor did he put on a show of being overly empathetic. It made me respect him more, and I found myself leaning closer.
Deciding to let some of my poor decision-making skills through, I stood and took a step forward so I was right between his legs. I bent at the waist until I was at his level.
“Let’s just see what happens,” I said. “Between us, I mean.”
“Isn’t that the same as doing nothing?”
“No. It means we’ll see what happens and we’ll pay attention along the way.”
“Sounds the same to me.”
“Alright, meathead. Leave the thinking to me.”
“Did you just call me dumb?”
“Only if the shoe fits.”
“Well, it doesn’t, but I think arguing with you will only make you double down.”
My lips curved into a smile. When I gripped the back of his neck, he did the same, meeting me head-on. His fingers shifted into my hair, then he tipped my head back and arched upward to press his lips against the column of my throat.
“We’ll see what happens, then,” he murmured.
After taking a second to check in with myself, I bunched the front of his t-shirt in my fist and pushed him backward.
He twisted and brought his legs onto the lounger.
Without breaking stride, I straddled him and used my grip to keep him from lying all the way back.
His fingers dug into my thighs, and his mouth remained agape while he stared up at me.
“Don’t get comfortable,” I warned.
He lifted one brow. “Why not?”
“Because this isn’t going to work.”
“So why—”
I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, too firmly to allow more nonsensical questions. His groan vibrated against my mouth, and my entire body lit up.
This was about where I’d find myself making crazy declarations and looking for ways to convince a guy that I could offer him something worth staying for, even if I had to make it up.
But this was Amir Darya. He wasn’t Cole, who would bring drugs into my house, despite how I felt about them.
I couldn’t imagine Amir ever laying a hand on me, no matter how much I got in his face or aggravated him.
He wouldn’t leave me high and dry just to come back months later as if everything was fine.
He would simply leave and go back to his life that didn’t involve some guy who lived in a bar and couldn’t sleep without a weapon next to him.
A guy who confused abuse with love, even though logically he was smart enough to know the difference.
That was why I told him this wasn’t going to work.
And it might have been why I was drawn to him altogether.
I swung my leg off of him and backpedaled when he tried to reach for me.
He huffed and drooped his head. “Come back.”
“You set the match. Kissing doesn’t equal sex, remember?”
“I didn’t mention sex, you maniac. Sit your ass down and eat.”
I glanced at the quesadilla. “Not hungry. I’ll eat it later.”
“Have half.”
“You sound like a goddamned dad.”
“I am.”
“Oh, right.”
I sat in my lounger and picked up the plate. My stomach wasn’t excited for it, but I took a bite of the quesadilla anyway. There was movement from Amir’s side, and before I could react, he was already climbing onto my chair behind me.
“This is boyfriend stuff, right?” he asked as he boxed me in with his legs on either side of me.
Gripping my quesadilla with both hands like a child, I leaned back enough that I was pressed against his chest but not exactly resting. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
I lifted one shoulder as the sun disappeared the rest of the way. “In the not-so-distant past, ‘boyfriend stuff’ was having my nose almost broken because he saw a random guy tip me at the bar.”
Amir’s fingers trailed up the bare skin of my back. “I’m sorry.”
“Damn, I didn’t mean to trauma dump.”
“It’s fine.”
“I told you I’m not good at the boyfriend stuff.”
“Sounds to me like you weren’t the one in the wrong.”
Not knowing what to say, I let myself tip my head back to rest on his shoulder. The sun had already set, and there wasn’t much to see, but we sat there in a strangely contented silence while the city moved along at its usual pace below.