My back presses into the sturdy desk and he leans in closer. “Thank you,” I whisper modestly. I drop my gaze to his hips, noticing the indents of muscle and then I look away, trying to conceal the red flushing my cheeks. “So you're not angry with me then?”
“No,” he breathes. His breath fans across my face adding more warmth to my already overheated face and I when I open my mouth I taste his cool, minty mouth wash. “Why would I be angry?”
“Because I didn’t think you ever wanted me to come in here,” I say, but I won’t look into his eyes. I know if I do I won’t be able to look away.
“I didn’t.” He moves closer, his hands sliding up my back and over my shoulders, his long fingers skimming my collar bone. His lips are warm and moist against my ear, his breath hot. “But let’s just say that I've had a change of heart.”
“A change of heart.” I flash him an icy glare. “Funny. I wasn't aware you had one.” He did tell me once that he wasn’t capable of love and devotion. To me a person like that would be missing one important organ.
He narrows his eyes and smirks. “That's not funny.”
“It wasn't meant to be.” Now he looks hurt. But the hurt look fades instantly when his fingers roam and he starts fiddling with the thin straps on my nightgown.
He's got a carnal look in his eye. I know that look. I've witnessed it dozens of times and I know what happens after it. “God.” His voice is husky, needy. “Why do you do this to me?”
I play innocent. “Do what?”
“It's like every time you’re near I have to hold myself back.”
“From?” I probe.
“Nothing.” He drops his hands and averts his attention to one of the book shelves. “Never mind.” He backs up off me and extends his hand. “Come, Adelaide. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
I take his hand and he guides me out of his study. A sinking feeling circles my gut as he closes the door. A flutter in my heart accompanies the sinking feeling.
I know this feeling.
I know it all too well.
I’ve felt it before.
It feels like you’re falling from a cliff. The air is sucked from your lungs and your stomach bottoms out. Your heart won’t stop racing and your skin puckers at the thought of someone wrapping their arms around you.
Yes, I know this feeling.
I know that I’m falling for Elijah Watson.
And I pray that I don’t lose someone I’ve fallen for a second time.
Chapter Twenty Five
~Before~
Damien has started fading.
He’s like a picture on a television screen.
He keeps flickering in and out of focus and I wish I could turn his dial and change the channel.
He’s stopped pacing and screaming.
But I haven’t stopped crying.
I keep my sobs low. My back to him. And my nose in the corner between two white padded walls. Squeaking rings out in my cell as Damien takes a seat on my mattress. His breaths are strained and mixed with an occasional grunt so that tells me he’s still in a bad mood. “Are you going to come and sit next to me, Addy?” His voice is raspy and terrifying. I shake my head as more tears blur my vision and I stare at a wall so white white white. “Of course not,” he scoffs. “What am I not good enough for you now? Is that it?” He lets out a cackle laced with evil. “Because I thought my mother made it clear that you were the one who was trash?”
His words strangle me. They slice me open and more blood pours from my already bleeding heart. “Go away,” I whisper. That’s the only thing I can say. It’s all I can do. Because I have the upper hand here. I am living.
Even though the words hurt and stab through me, repeatedly, I know he’s not really saying them. I know it’s my mind reminding me of the things I thought right after he died.