The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

I didn’t know how I’d managed not to grab her nape, pull her closer, slide my tongue against hers and taste the inside of her mouth. It hadn’t felt like a want at the time—it felt like a need. And that realization gave me the strength to hold back. After the night before, especially. I’d thought she was materialistic and shallow, yet she watched documentaries, read history, and was reserved. I wanted to know what she did during the day and what kind of thoughts consumed such a pretty head.

A car door shut behind me.

I turned to see Elena looking at me over the top of the car. She wore a high ponytail I should’ve never wrapped around my fist. Now I could never forget how silky it really was.

She cocked her head toward the gas station. “Bathroom.”

I nodded once, then gave her my back, because the last thing I needed right now was to watch her ass as she walked away. She was wearing leggings—enough said.

I’d underestimated her. I’d thought she would refuse to reenact the stage kiss, therefore giving me a leg to stand on by calling that “platonic” excuse bullshit. Truthfully, I didn’t give a fuck if it had been. It pissed me off.

I wanted to make her squirm after I’d spent the entire week trying to drive her half-naked body from my mind. Except she didn’t squirm; she undid her seatbelt and laid one on me. She called it platonic, while I had been one second from losing my grasp on self-control and touching her everywhere she’d let me.

Shit, was she irritating—a little nuisance that had wiggled beneath my skin. She was supposed to be wallpaper, but I couldn’t stop my gaze from finding her whenever she was in the room.

In the library the night before, she’d stared at me unashamedly, and fuck if it hadn’t made me feel itchy as shit. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I’d called her out on it and she hadn’t even said a word, only continued to watch me with the softest brown eyes I’d ever seen as pink tinted her cheeks.

Never thought a blush could get me so hard.

Watching her with Tyler made me wonder if he was the man she was in love with. She hadn’t hesitated to kiss me to protect him. My teeth clenched. The ring on her finger was from a man. I’d bet money on it. Tyler? Or the man she’d run away to be with?

Jesus, why did I care?

I wasn’t going to worship Elena with the rest of the male population of New York. I’d stand on the sidelines and watch the idiots pine for her attention. I ran a hand across my face, pulled the cigarette from my lips and dropped it in my shirt pocket.

As I twisted the cap on the gas tank, my attention coasted up to see Elena walking toward the car, her steps quick and her eyes toward the concrete.

My gaze narrowed. I’d learned how to read body language over the years. It was good to know when someone was going to shoot at you in the middle of a meeting. And Elena’s posture raised all my alarms. Avoiding eye contact, tight shoulders—she was stressed.

“Elena,” I said, trying to get her to look at me.

She didn’t stop at my voice. She climbed in my Audi and slammed the door. My chest burned, and without realizing how I’d gotten there I stood on her side of the car.

“What happened?” I demanded as soon as I opened the door.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Can we go?”

Maybe I’d believe that if she wasn’t such a fidgety mess. But nah, not even then. Everyone knew that when a woman said nothing she was fucking lying.

“Yeah.”

Her gaze shot to me, and now I had her. Now I could see the turmoil swimming in those eyes.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah. After you tell me what the fuck happened.”

She sighed and rested her head against the seat. “Nothing. I just want to go home.”

I dropped to my haunches, grabbed her chin, and turned her face to mine. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened.”

Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, and she averted her gaze. “I don’t want you to make it a big deal.”

“Won’t.” Depends.

“Promise you won’t do anything.”

“Promise.” Lie.