Chapter 6
Chapter six
Dawson
Ishould tell Lucia how I feel. Saying I'll be lonely when she leaves is only a hint of the real truth.
Should I wait until tomorrow? The last thing I want to do is get everything off my chest, have her reject such craziness, and then be trapped in the same space as me until it's safe to leave.
The longer I have the truth resting on my chest, the harder it is to breathe. Hell, the harder it is to do anything.
The first thing Lucia does when we head back inside is check her phone. Seeing the small smile playing out on her face feels like a knife to the chest.
Even if I know she won't try to get anyone to come pick her up today, I dread tomorrow before it comes. Saying goodbye to her will be impossible. Especially when all I want to do is pull her to my chest and never let go.
I'm not going to be able to keep the words to myself. Fuck, I'm not strong enough for that.
Once she's done tapping away, she smiles as she joins me on the couch. Leaning close enough for her hair to tickle my shoulders, I have to hold back a groan. Before I can ask what she's doing, I hear her phone snap a photo.
"They want to know what kind of guy would let me stay over," she explains as she sends it off. "They'll do a whole background check to make sure you aren't a serial killer."
Looking over her shoulder at her phone, I watch in amusement as texts appear on her phone. GIF reactions of actors fanning themselves. I don't miss the light pink on her cheeks or the small smile that lifts on her mouth. Cute.
I want to kiss her.
Then I see someone in her chat ask for my name.
If she asks, I'll tell her the whole thing.
Searching for me online won't bring up much.
Though what it will bring up is past social media pages I've long abandoned.
What's on them may be a little concerning, but not in the way her friends may worry about.
Even without my name, I'm sure they'll be able to find me.
Without giving her time to ask, I'm moving in for the kill.
Flattening her on her back against the cushion of the couch and enjoying a gasp that escapes her lips as she drops her phone, it's the laugh that comes next that hits me right in the chest.
I don't think what I'm feeling for this woman is something that'll die down anytime soon.
"You should know something about me. Better to hear it directly from the source before your friends figure out the truth."
Her brows lift, and despite brushing my chest with her fingertips, she doesn't push me away. "Please tell me that you're not going to reveal that you really are a serial killer."
Snorting, I shake my head. "Worse. I'm a hermit." My smile lessens, and my eyes drift to the side. "You should know why."
Telling her about my last relationship, one that made it all the way to almost hearing wedding bells, makes her frown, but she listens along anyway.
I don't want her to think I'm worried about an old relationship, but I also don't want her to believe I'm cut off from any chance of falling for someone again.
"It fell through after I found her alone with my best man." Sighing out, I expect to sound uncaring after all these years, but the words still catch in the back of my throat. It wasn't just losing her; it was the total demolition of my entire life in a single afternoon.
Lucia's fingers brush gently against my cheek, providing a cool relief from the sudden warmth that flushed my face."Is that why you're up here all alone?"
I lean into her touch, closing my eyes for a brief second just to focus on the feeling of her skin against mine.
"Everywhere I went, people looked at me like I was a kicked puppy," I admit, my voice dropping an octave.
"The whispers, the pitying smiles, the hands on my shoulder from people who just wanted a front-row seat to my wreck.
It suffocates you. Up here, the trees don't pity me.
The mountain doesn't care that I was stupid enough to trust the two people who mattered most."
"Even if it guarantees you'll never meet anyone else?" she whispers, her thumb brushing the edge of my jawline.
I open my eyes, looking directly into hers, the firelight catching the gold in her irises.
"I thought I wanted isolation forever. I thought a dead heart was a safe one.
" A small, rough chuckle leaves my chest, the humor completely gone as the gravity of the moment pulls us closer. "But I met you, didn't I?"
A small chuckle leaves my chest, but the humor dies out the second her brows shoot up in surprise.
She looks at me, really looks at me, and it hits me like a physical weight—maybe it hasn't crossed her mind yet.
Maybe she thinks getting stranded up here on my mountain was just bad luck.
But looking down at her, with the storm howling outside and her entire world narrowed down to this room, it feels like fate. A quiet, undeniable gravity.
Spread out beneath me on the cushions, she doesn't have the slightest clue how beautiful she is. The firelight catches the soft curve of her throat, and the urge to touch her, to claim this quiet space between us, becomes too loud to ignore.
As she murmurs my name so sweetly, I hit my breaking point.
I lean down, closing the distance so slowly I can feel the exact moment her breath hitches against my lips. I don't rush her. I let the heat of my mouth hover over hers for a fraction of a second, giving her the chance to pull away.
When she doesn't, I brush my lips against hers.
It’s a soft, aching sigh of a kiss. A quiet reassurance after everything I just confessed about my past. I part my lips slightly, tasting the sweetness of her, my heart doing a slow, heavy thud against my ribs.
It isn't demanding yet—it's a question, a gentle worship of the mouth that's been driving me crazy since she walked through my door.
Her fingers move from my cheek, a trail of fire grazing my throat, and she lets out a soft breath that parts her lips further, letting me in just a fraction deeper.
"Dawson..." Whispering my name ever so softly, her fingers coast over my chest before I feel the first hint of a push. "We shouldn't do this."
Pulling back takes a level of restraint that tears at my muscles, but the sudden, sharp fear of history repeating itself freezes me cold. I lean back, my chest heaving, searching her eyes for the rejection I’m terrifyingly familiar with.
I don't miss the misery in her eyes, as if turning me down is hurting her more than it is hurting me.
My hands act on their own, framing her jaw. Her skin is warm, a stark contrast to the cold dread pooling in my stomach. I feel the flutter of her pulse right beneath my thumb, beating just as fast as mine.
I thought that maybe she felt it too. This force pushing us together.
"I don't understand." Sounding stupid admitting the words, they're the truth. "Did I do something wrong?"
Quickly shaking her head, she shuts that down without giving me time to drown myself in my worries.
"It's me, I promise." Forcing out a sigh, her eyes lower to my chest where her hands are flat. "I want this, I really do. But... if we keep going, I'm not going to want to leave."
The admission hits me like a wave of heat. She isn't pushing me away because she doesn't care; she's pushing me away because she cares too much.
My gaze drops to her lips, watching the way they tremble slightly on an exhaled breath. I lean down just an inch, shifting my weight so the solid length of my chest presses flush against her palms, trapping her hands between our heartbeats.
"Then don’t," I growl, the last remnants of my control snapping into two.
I don't give her time to rethink it, time to let the logic of the outside world crawl back into this room. I lean down and claim her mouth, but the tentative sweetness from before is entirely gone. This is hungry. This is demanding.
This is me showing her what she does to me. Something like this isn't a flash in a pan. It's hot enough to last for a lifetime.
A ragged gasp catches in her throat, and I drink it in, tilting her chin up to deepen the angle.
My hands slide from her jaw, burying deep into her hair, anchoring her to the cushions beneath us.
I need her to feel the absolute truth of what she does to me—how she’s completely upended the quiet, lonely life I built up here.
Lucia doesn't fight me. With a soft, desperate whimper, her hands leave my chest and wrap around the back of my neck, pulling me down until there isn’t a single inch of empty space left between us. The heat of her body arches up into mine, a perfect, scorching fit that drives me out of my mind.
When her tongue tangles with mine, the taste of her is a shock to my system, erasing every ghost of my past. My chest heaves against hers, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs it feels bruised.
I shift my weight, settling heavier between her thighs, and a low, guttural groan tears from my chest when she responds by locking her fingers tighter in my hair.
She isn't just letting this happen; she's burning right along with me.