Chapter 10 #2
Because, my guy, you could not be soft, slight, and innocent in this world while also being weak. You had to be a survivor. If you weren’t, you’d be on the fast track to skeleton status.
You see now why I was so entranced from moment one. Keeping that soft innocence while also surviving was a skill few possessed. Wrap that up in blond hair, stormy eyes, and a body that fit perfectly against mine, and what you got was a loophole in my self-control.
Beneath me, Pip hummed, the sound vibrating the finger still trapping his lips. I lifted the digit, my gaze never once leaving his face.
“Hiro.” My name slid from his tongue as though he’d been saying it all his life, his pronunciation shifting slightly, putting more emphasis on the beginning and softening the O at the end (h-IH-roh).
And even knowing we’d just met, it felt like he knew me. As if he was able to look past the ghost and see the man.
Inebriated, enamored, maybe a little obsessed, I abolished the inches between us to devour what was left of me on his lips, sinking deeply into the kiss to blur the line between us so we could bleed into one.
Everything about him was soft and yielding, a perfect yes to my no.
A mind-erasure to every thought that should have had me pulling away.
His little moans, the way his fingers clutched at my hair, how perfectly his pliant tongue curled around mine.
Everything about him made me drunk, turning me reckless until I tumbled over headfirst into a free fall to a place I was never supposed to go.
A sudden burst of sound decimated the quiet of the room, turning the fevered way he clung to me into something that felt a lot like fear. Instantly, I went into protection mode, anchoring him close and dipping my face into his neck to brush a soothing kiss across his skin.
“It’s just my phone,” I said, my voice rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in months.
His arms trembled around my neck, and once again, I wondered how he’d survived this long alone.
“Do you need to answer it?” he asked.
I definitely needed to answer it. “No.”
The tension in his limbs released, leaving me to support him entirely, a task that was easier than breathing.
The phone rang a few more times before the sound cut off and we were left with silence once more.
Except it wasn’t the same. I’d been dragged under before, drowning in passion, and now I was at the surface.
I looked down, taking in his flushed cheeks, wild bed head, and swollen lips. How easily I could drown again… “How you feeling, Pip?”
“I like being here with you,” he whispered, peering at me from beneath feathery lashes that fluttered like coy butterfly wings.
My stomach swooped as if I had a roller coaster right there in my torso and I was in the front with no seatbelt. His innocence was disarming. My walking soft spot with a pulse. Staying here with him was a mistake, but it was my favorite mistake.
“You should drink some more Gatorade,” I murmured, stare dropping back to his lips.
You know, to check for signs of dehydration.
“I don’t want to.”
Without thinking, I leaned down, dragging my nose along his. “What do you want?”
Our noses bumped again when he lifted his chin, offering up that sweet mouth once more.
My self-control would be expiring in three, two, one—
My cell went off again, the noise snapping my attention up, forcing my eyes over his head.
Heart racing, a feeling of dread coiled low in my belly like a snake ready to squeeze the life right out of me. Groaning beneath my breath, I pushed back the blankets and started to get up. The arms around my neck tightened, a voiceless request to stay put.
I was tempted. So fucking tempted. But the phone continued to disrupt the silence, a cruel alarm reminding me my time was up.
“I can’t ignore it again, baby.”
He made a sound, and my heart clenched. Baby.
That right there was against all kinds of rules.
Peeling myself away, I slipped from the bed to grab my phone.
“Yeah,” I said into the line. The people who called me never expected polite conversation. Didn’t deserve it either.
“Took you a while to answer,” the voice replied.
I didn’t bother offering an explanation. Again, I wasn’t there to be polite.
After a long stretch of nothing, someone cleared their throat. It wasn’t me.
“There’s a job.”
There was always a job. As soon as one ended, three more popped up in their place. I considered my life one of forced servitude, something I never really agreed to yet somehow found purpose in anyway.
“Go on,” I said, turning my back completely to the blond in my bed. Even with the wall of my shoulders between us, I still felt him.
The voice started talking, and the tension I’d managed to live without for the past few hours crept back with a stronger edge than before.
Punishment for being reckless.
When the voice on the line went quiet, I shouldered the weight of my reality, and my brain went all I told you so.
“Do you copy?” they finally asked.
“Affirmative,” I snapped, then ended the call. Instead of turning back to the resolve-wrecking siren in my bed, I tossed aside the phone and grabbed my pants, pulling them on without bothering to do up the fly.
After snatching a cigarette, I paced over to the window, struck the match aggressively against the flint on my ring, and watched a spark ignite into flame.
The second I inhaled, the sharp sting of tobacco burned past my tongue to smother the oxygen in my throat.
A thin, icy blast of night air floated into the room when I cracked the window, winding around my bare chest as I leaned my head against the wall to release a stream of smoke.
I could already feel the nicotine working its magic over my strained nerves as I stared out toward the starless sky.
Pinching the thin cylinder between two fingers, I inhaled again, letting the hostile burn consume me before puffing out toward the open window.
“Smoking is bad for you.” Even his attempt at scolding was sweet.
I made a humorless sound, keeping my eyes on the sky. “Born to die, remember?”
“Well, you don’t have to help the dying part along.”
“Maybe being dead is better than being alive.”
He was silent a moment. Then, “Maybe.”
I straightened off the wall, pulling the cigarette down to my side, not giving a flying rat’s ass that ash was probably getting all over the place. It wasn’t like we were at the Hilton.
“What did you just say?” I challenged. It was one thing for me to be morbid but a whole other for him.
“I agreed with you.”
“Don’t,” I snapped.
“When I kiss you, I taste cigarettes.”
“Don’t like it, don’t kiss me.”
“I do like it. More than any other kiss I’ve ever had.”
I stiffened again. “How many people you been kissing?” How dare he lie there naked and talk about other dudes?
“Just a few.”
“I’ll need names.” I decided, taking another drag.
“Did they make an appointment in hell too?”
“No. They made an appointment with my fist.”
A light giggle swirled through the air. It lit up my nervous system and nearly blinded me completely.
“Are you jealous?” he asked.
“No.”
We fell into silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I wonder what you taste like underneath the cigarette,” he said. “Right now, you kinda taste like death, and even though you think you were born to die… I think it’s something else.”
I made a sound. “Like what?”
“Can I see the tattoo on your back?”
Without a word, I put my back to him, finishing off the cigarette and then snuffing out the butt on the windowsill.
The room was poorly lit, and I knew I stood on the edge of shadows and it would likely be hard to see. I didn’t move closer to the light. I didn’t move at all.
The blankets rustled, and his bare feet hit the floor. The pulse in my neck doubled in pace, and suddenly, I wanted to light another cigarette.
He thinks I taste like death. Death should be nowhere near him.
Instead of reaching for a match, I curled my hands into fists and kept my eyes to the window. He was small and quiet, but I felt him walk across the room. I wanted to tell him to get back in bed, but the words evaporated in my throat.
Instead, my heart continued to pound as he crept closer, his stare making my skin feel hot. My head tilted when I heard my cell drag across the tabletop, and the flashlight illuminated seconds later.
Pretty rude that he helped himself to my phone.
I didn’t tell him to put it down.