“I think…” I held my breath when his fingers wrapped around the side of my neck and squeezed. “…there isn’t anything about you I don’t like.” His throat worked up and down as he swallowed hard.
“That’s not true.”
“Oh?”
I lowered my gaze and somehow found my fingers on the button of his shirt. I wanted nothing more than to slide one after the other through and unwrap what was underneath, but I settled for fiddling with the center one.
“You don’t like me at all. You’re always mean to me.”
He made a sound in his throat, and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me closer. Our bodies together felt like a furnace. “This is wrong,” I heard him whisper as he clenched his eyes closed tight as if in pain.
“Sorry?”
His eyes popped open. “I said you’re wrong,” he answered louder.
He’s lying. That’s not what he said.I ignored the flutters low in my gut anyway and said, “Should you be holding me like this?”
More painful throat sounds. “No.”
“Then why?”
“Would you like the answer to your first question?” I glanced up in time to catch his lips twitch with amusement even while I was freaking out inside.
“Um… can you remind me?”
“You wanted to know if I thought your lips were pretty.”
“I thought we covered the answer to that.” I kept my gaze on his buttons. Buttons were safe. Angel Knight was not.
“Not really. You made an assumption before I could explain.”
“Ok, so, explain.”
“I will.” I nodded but then he said, “But to you. Not the top of your head.”
I looked up all the while debating if it was smart and at the same time, unable to ignore his subtle demand. The single moment that followed our gazes meeting was all it took for me to understand that more than just our gazes had connected.
“Yes?” I prompted when he said nothing. He freaked me out in ways that made me tingle and soar, and others that made me feel like I would crash and burn.
“I think you’re beautiful.”
I gasped, but his finger falling on my lips didn’t allow me to do or say anything more.
“Sometimes I don’t know how to handle that.” He paused but his eyes searched mine before he whispered, “and I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
We were too busy not saying everything we wanted to.
“So am I forgiven?” he asked after the silence grew to be too obvious.
“Do you really want to be forgiven?”
“I wouldn’t apologize if I didn’t, Sprite.”
“Sprite?”
“You’re so fucking tiny,” he growled. I could feel his frustration vibrating off him.
“I’m sorry?” I said because I didn’t have a clue of how else to react.
“Don’t apologize. I love your body.” I sucked in a breath, and he cursed and then cursed some more. “I need you to return to your to seat. Please,” he begged when I didn’t move.
“Why?” I wasn’t experienced with boys and sex, but I knew that sitting in his lap wasn’t right. Lines had been crossed, but since they had already been crossed, why not explore?
“Fuck, Sprite. You don’t—” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re only fourteen.”
“So?”
He jerked as if I hit him. “So? So?” His voice rose on the last. “So I’m fuckingtwenty.”
“Why do you care?”
“Why do I—” He stopped and barked out a laugh. “Do you have any clue what guys like me would like to do with little girls like you?”
“Um…”
“The guilty flush on your cheeks say you do,” he snapped. “Some wouldn’t hesitate to take what you don’t even know you’re offering.”
“What am I offering?”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “I’m not having this conversation with you,” he answered more calmly than he had ten seconds ago. “Get off my lap.”
“Not until you make me understand why you’re mad at me again.”
“For fuck sake.” He gripped my waist and lifted. I found myself dumped into the passenger seat, and before I could right myself, the engine roared and tires spun as he took off. “Seatbelt,” he ordered.
It was the last thing he said to me during the ride. When he pulled up to the brownstone, he watched me go up it. I didn’t see him for two days. I was worried something had happened to him and was tempted to call Daddy, but I knew our fathers would be furious that he took off.
On day two, I learned from one of my classmates that he had spent the last two nights locked in her older sister’s bedroom.Chapter Twenty-SixA deal she can’t refuse.
MIAN
PresentIt rained hardthe next day.
When the lights went, I ran to a corner and hid. I hated storms. They scared the shit out of me. There was nothing beautiful or poetic about a storm. With each flash and thundering boom, I imagined a new kind of freak accident. The house would split down the middle. A tornado would sweep the house from the foundation and toss it into outer space. A large ship would come crashing through, wiping us all out in one swoop.