Unscrewing the peroxide cap, I soaked a cotton ball and then placed the bottle on the table. The sharp scent went straight to my nose. “You...you always made everything sound like it’s not a big deal. You’re doing that now.”

His lips continued to curve on the right and the dimple appeared. Then he sighed and scooted forward, spreading his legs. His hands suddenly landed on my hips, and I almost dropped the cotton ball at the unexpected contact. My breath caught as he lowered me so I was sitting on the edge of the coffee table and he kept moving forward, the inside of his legs sliding against the outside of mine. The rough material of his jeans touching my bare skin sent a raw, drenching rush of sensation through my veins.

“That better?” he asked, peering at me through lowered lashes.

I blinked, having no idea what he was talking about, and then I realized that seated like this, it was easier to reach him. His hands dropped from my hips to rest on his thighs, and they were oh so close to mine.

Stretching toward him, I gently swiped along the gash, and when he sucked in a breath, I pulled my hand back.

“It’s okay,” he said.

I tried again, and this time he didn’t move or make a sound. “Are you going to tell me...what happened?”

A moment passed, and I glanced down at him. “This reminds me of old times,” he said, and his lashes lifted. As his gaze drifted over me, it was focused but all too brief, because he looked away, a muscle working along his jaw. “Kind of.”

A flush raced across my cheeks as I switched out the ball for a new one. He was right—this was like all the other times I’d cleaned him up. Well, when I was younger, I tried to clean him up, but had no idea what I was doing, but as we grew older, and he got into fights defending me or for some other reason, this was our routine.

Except I was pretty sure that when his gaze roamed over me just now, he’d checked out my breasts, and that was definitely something that hadn’t happened before. Back then I doubted he even realized that I had them.

Probably because they didn’t appear until about two years ago.

My thoughts whirled to the car in the parking lot and to what Keira had said the day before as I cleaned up the cut. Was this a result of the shady people he was hanging out with? Would he now have matching scars above both eyebrows? I didn’t like the idea of that. “Why haven’t you been in class?”

“I had some stuff to take care of.”

“That’s not an answer.” When he said nothing, I tried again. “Are you... Are you safe, Rider?”

He turned his cheek toward me, and I almost dabbed him in the eyeball. “That would?

?ve stung,” he murmured, catching my wrist. He plucked the ball out of my hand and tossed it on the coffee table. “I’m safe. I’m always safe.”

I shook my head. “All those times you put yourself—”

“Mouse...”

“You put yourself in danger for me. You did, over and over again.” Anger snapped at the heels of the concern welling in my chest. “You never really stopped to think about...what could happen to you.”

He tilted his head back, meeting my gaze. “I knew what I was doing.”

“You...” My throat thickened as memories rose like a vile, tainted wave. “You took beatings for me. You—”

“Mouse,” he said gently. “I knew what I was doing then and I know what I’m doing now.”

Was he basically telling me that he was now taking a beating for someone else? Without him saying any more, I knew it. I knew the bloody gash on his forehead wasn’t because of something he’d done, but something someone smaller, weaker had done. “Are you a masochist?”

He stared at me a moment and then he laughed—that deep laugh that made me shiver. “That’s a good question.”

“It’s not funny.” I started to pull my arm away, but he held on to my wrist. Our gazes held again, and words bubbled up my throat like champagne. “I don’t like seeing you hurt now any better than I did back then.”

“But I’m not hurt.” His voice was low. “See? You took care of me.”

There was a swelling feeling in my chest again, but this one was different. Sort of like a balloon being filled. “Is that why you came here?”

He didn’t respond immediately. “I don’t know. I think I just missed you. Like not seeing you all this time after...after being around you every day for, hell, for a decade, and then...then I lost you. But now you’re back.” He smoothed his other hand over the top of mine. “It doesn’t seem real. The odds of us ever crossing each other’s path again had to be stacked against us, but here we are.”

Here we are.

“So how long do I have before—what were their names? Carl and Rosa? Yeah, that’s them. How long do I have before they come back?”

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net