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I babbled the words out, staring at him. I didn’t know what I wanted, but the scent and nearness of him might drive me mad if he didn’t do something soon.
He kissed me then, right as I thought my nerves might snap from the tension. One long press of his mouth to mine, and he didn’t let go to make it an easy, friendly embrace. No, this spoke of something else. Possession? I felt possessed, an overwhelming hunger for him driving me for more.
“It’s not up to them if they want to know you or not,” he rasped, coming up for air.
“You’re kissing me. A lot.” I pointed out the obvious because my fingertips were on his skin and he felt so, so good.
“I like kissing you, and you like me doing it,” he replied, dragging his lips up my cheek and to my ear. He bit down on the lobe and I shivered against him.
All of that was true, so I didn’t bother denying it.
I tilted my head, drunk on the sensations, and his gaze fell to my neck. What was he thinking of doing there? What made his steady gaze go so hot?
Instead of asking, I said, “Yes, but it’s new and nothing has changed, per se. I still can’t…”
“Can’t or won’t?” His voice was low, and he nuzzled against my neck, breathing me in an audible breath that made me warm inside. His lips dragged against my neck, driving little shivers of pleasure dancing across my skin.
“Does it matter?” I whispered, unsure why I didn’t speak louder. We were alone. No one would hear me, yet it seemed like a moment for whispered secrets.
His hand moved to my hip, his fingertips digging into my skin as he pulled me closer. “I can feel how you want me. I’d have to be dead to not know it, and you know…because I told you four years ago. I want you, Bridget. Permanently. I want you sofucking much. So, yes, it matters to me if it’scan’torwon’t. The answer determines how I proceed.”
I appreciated his honesty, and my breath trembled out of me. I had to close my eyes to even say the words, because it wasn’t what I wanted. “Michael, you don’t understand. I’m protectingyoufromme. I’m not okay, so it’scan’tandwon’t.”
His gaze met mine when I opened my eyes again, and he captured me in that moment, not letting me look away from the intensity of his steady stare. I took a long breath, not sure if there was enough air in the room. I felt lightheaded, dizzy from the confession and his proximity. “Did something happen to you, Bridget? When you were twenty-one… That was the year things changed. I remember, because it was the year you went from being completely confident to thinking there was something wrong with you all the time. You can tell me what happened. There’s nothing you can say that will change how I feel about you. Nothing ever could.”
It took me longer than it should have to realize what he was asking me. “What happened to Hope—that didn’t happen to me. Nothing like thatat all.”
Since he still gripped me so close, I could feel some of the tension leave Michael’s body. His nose nuzzled along my jaw, a warmth I couldn’t help but turn my face toward. He asked, “Are you sick? Because that won’t make any difference either. Whatever it is, we could face it together.”
Had he always been so sweet? If so, I didn’t notice, which kind of made me sad. I confessed, “I’m a bad person. I’m not physically sick. You don’t reallyknowme, Michael. In my heart, where it matters, I do bad things to people. I basically am my father’s daughter in all ways, or at least in the ones that matter. I’m not sure I could stand seeing you look at me the way that you will when you finally realize who I am. Do you have any idea howmuch worse it would be to realize you’ve saddled yourself with someone who destroys lives?”
8
Five years earlier
Over a year had passed since the last time I’d seen Michael Li, yet he casually sprawled on the stoop of my dorm like he had every right to be there. I stared at him from my apartment window, watching as he drank a soda out of a glass container. The way his tongue moved over the bottle fascinated me. My nipples hardened watching him, and I caught my breath. I closed my eyes briefly, knowing I’d remember the moment later, when I could touch myself and think of him.
He was still out there when I opened my eyes.
Oh my gosh, Bridget. Heat flooded my cheeks, but I kept staring out the window, refusing to turn away from the view while it lasted. I couldn’t believe how completely turned on just watching him drink could make me. It didn’t make sense. Why was he even there?
My roommate came inside the apartment and shut the door behind her with a loud thunk. Bethany and I didn’t have a lot in common, besides an address. She seemed nice enough, andalthough I was sure we wouldn’t live together again after the semester, we got along just fine.
“Ooh, look,” she said, joining me by the window. She pointed and bounced on her toes. “You noticed the hottie outside. I tried to smile at him when I came in, but he wasn’t into me. Shot me down.” She shrugged, her blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders. “Maybe he’ll like you?”
I turned to look at her, dropping the curtain. “I know him, actually. I’m sure…never mind. I’ll go see him now.”
She darted forward, catching my arms while she grinned at me. “Bridget Radford, are you keeping secrets? Older men? Tell me more!”
“No.” I tried to smile and laugh it off, but it was harder after he turned me on by doing little more than existing. “Nothing like that. He just works for my father.”Sort of. Close enough, anyway.“I’ll be right back.”
My chest felt tight as I made my way downstairs. It had been a weird week, which had to be the explanation. I took my last final earlier, but I didn’t want to go home just yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see my sisters, because I really did. It was the rest of it. Justin was definitely on his way to having a problem with substances, and my father…something was up with him beyond his usual morose behavior.
Also, I just loved being at school. These people…they made me feel like I wasn’t so weird. They were the same kind ofoffas me.
I took the elevator because the stairways always smelled sort of bad and I didn’t want to see Michael out of breath and carrying a lingering stair-stench. By the time I stepped back outside, my usual mask sat carefully in place.
“Michael?”
