Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

His penetrative gaze stays locked on mine. “What about it?”

“When are you planning on scheduling your test run?”

He rolls back underneath the car without answering me. The sounds of tools being used fills the silence, and a few bolts drop onto the cement floor.

“I scheduled it for next week.”

“What?” I crouch down, trying to see his eyes. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“I booked it for a day you’re working.”

“Why would you do that?” A throb I’m unaccustomed to blooms inside of my chest. I thought he wanted me to go with him. Did he change his mind?

“It’s not because of you.” He rolls back out from underneath the car. With more agility than I expect from him, he stands up.

“Do you not want me to go anymore?” Somehow I hide the hurt in my voice.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

Right. A classic brush-off. For some reason, it feels a lot different being on the receiving end.

“Then what?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was afraid I’d chicken out and doing so would be a hell of a lot easier without you there.”

“Because I wouldn’t hold you accountable.”

He shakes his head, stepping back into my personal bubble. “Because making you unhappy is the last thing I want.”

He reaches out for my cheek. The roughness of his palm brushes against my skin, and everything inside of me aches for more. “I want to make you proud of me.”

“Of course I’m proud of you. What roommate wouldn’t be? You kicked my ass in Mario Kart earlier and completed a bunch of simulation laps.” I jokingly shove his shoulder, but it comes off forced. My eyes flutter shut as his thumb trails across my lips.

“Roommates, huh?”

“The bestest. Like the show Friends.”

“The one where they all get together? I couldn’t have picked a better choice myself.”

My eyes snap open. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You attempt with everything in you to resist us.” He runs a finger across my clavicle, eliciting a shiver from me.

“I try hard to show you that certain things are more important than sex.”

“That exists?”

This time I shove his shoulder harder. He budges an inch before standing his ground.

“You’re hilarious. Really.” Sarcasm weighs my words down. “And stop changing the subject.”

“Then stop avoiding the one that matters. I’m changing, and if you haven’t realized that, then you’re not looking hard enough.”

He’s right. It’s obvious that he is changing, little by little. Between his daily trainings in the simulation lab to his discussions on the phone with Noah, he really is attempting to get back out there. He even bought a second F1 simulator set so we could play Mario Kart together every day after I come home from work. Can I withhold what we both want when he is trying to be different?

I don’t bother with a rebuttal once his lips touch mine. Whatever kiss I had on replay in my head from the elevator doesn’t do the real deal justice. It’s like comparing a single flame to a blowtorch.

His lips dominate, stealing away my thoughts. He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, begging for entrance. I wrap my arms around his neck and let him take control. I can’t help it. Kissing him is like eating dessert before dinner. I know it’s bad for me, and it’ll spoil my appetite for everything afterward, but I can’t help wanting to do something forbidden.