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The air between us seems to thicken, but there’s no hesitation in her voice when she speaks. “None of it.”
Fuck.
The air isn’t the only thing that thickens. I can feel my erection growing in my slacks. She can probably feel it too, pressed as she is against me. I push her away from me, just lightly enough to give myself the strength to take a few steps back, putting a respectable distance between us. She never even teeters on her heels, never falters. Her gaze stays on my back as I turn away from her, trying to get a moment to compose myself.
“I don’t regret it, Remy. I’d do it again.”
Well, that doesn’t help matters.
The blood in my veins is heating rapidly, blood lust mixing with my lust for her tight body.
“Claire,” I sigh, raking my hand through my hair. I haven’t gotten the courage to turn back to face her. I think once I do, my resistance will snap like a rubber band stretched too far. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself.
“Remy,” her voice mimics my frustration. I stiffen when her hands land on my shoulders. She massages them like she can erase all of the tension, the frustration, the confusion. She’s seducing me wholly—mind, body, soul. I’ve struggled for years with killing, done what was needed, and never wanted to do any of it. But part of what’s had me in a twist these last few days is the fact that for once, I didn’t just do what I had to. For once, I liked killing someone.
Every part of me hates to admit that, even to myself. I enjoyed taking the life of the piece of shit who ruined Claire’s life and a half dozen others. It’s not the peace of knowing that one less monster is walking the world that’s got my thoughts in knots. It’s the power I felt when I took his life and all the things he stole from his victims, the power that Claire stole back from him, that is filling me with a need as strong as my need for her.
But I am not the monsters that made me—I won’t succumb to it.
“What we did was wrong.” I tell her firmly.
“Then why did it feel so right?”
It’s just a whisper, but it startles me. I didn’t realize she was so close, but she’s pressing herself against me. The heels help with the height difference, but I imagine she’s on the tips of her toes all the same. I’ve lost track of what we’re talking about—the murder or the sex. My silence speaks for itself, and despite her earlier sentiment about not being able to tell what’s going on in my head, she answers the question I didn’t ask. “I mean both. If you want to kill them all, I’ll sharpen your knife along with my own. If you want to watch them burn, I’ll douse them in gasoline.”
They’re pretty words, maybe even a pretty thought. But I won’t let myself entertain them. They imply a future in which we’re together in some capacity. That’s not only unrealistic, it’s impossible. The battle I’m fighting will rage the rest of my life. I won’t let anyone else be wrapped up in it. I learned that lesson years ago. And given how I was ready to burn the world down when Claire was taken, I clearly can’t handle getting closer to her.
I spin around so that she can’t mistake the sincerity in my voice. This is too important to be delicate.
“There’s no future for you and me, Claire. There’s no world in which you and I will ever be anything more than tethered by my sister. I apologize if something I did has led you to believe that we could be more, but it will never happen.”
I almost expect her to crumble, or maybe just wince as if I’ve slapped her. I think maybe she’ll hold back tears, but her eyes will water, or she’ll try to fight me. Perhaps I’ve overestimated her opinion of me. Or, perhaps, it’s just that she’s not the same timid girl she was when she walked into my life. That shouldn’t scare me, but it does. Of all the murders I’ve had a hand in, that would be the one I regret most of all.
“I think you’ve misunderstood me, Remy.” Her voice is low, hinting at a laugh. “I’m not asking for anything. This isn’t me proposing marriage.” This time, she lets the chuckle break through her chest. It’s not the clear, unreserved sound I expect from her. It’s… condescending. Claire shakes her head, turning to go, but I snare her upper arm, spinning her back to face me at the same time as reeling her into me again. She’s so light she spins easily into me, throwing her hands out to brace against my chest a moment too late.
Her cockiness is gone as she looks up at me, her lips parted like she’s just waiting for the right words to find their way there. I weave my fingers through her hair, making it clear that she’s not going anywhere. “What were you proposing, then?”
I’m leaning into her; my words whisper over her lips. I brush the pad of my thumb over them, enjoying the velvety feel as they tremble under my touch. She told me she’d douse our enemies in gasoline, but I think she may have done the same to me. And she’s the flame, dangerous temptress who can ruin everything I’ve worked to secure for the last few years. The longer she’s near, the greater the chances that I’m going to be burnt… or she’ll take us both out in a blaze of glory.
But what pretty fireworks we’d make, her and I, blazing bright one last time through the dark.
“Not many people know the truth about you, Remy. And not many people know the truth about me. I wasn’t asking you to give me your last name. Give me your darkness, your shadows and sharp edges. Give me your pain and your rage. And take mine in return.”
I want to devour her lips, the words from them are so fucking delicious. But I need to know that we’re on the same page first. “We’ll never go anywhere, Claire. One night?” I’m not sure if I’m asking her permission or warning her to fight against me and go. I’d let her go if she tried to get away from me, but she’s not interested in getting away from me. In fact, I think she forms herself to me even more when her mouth whispers over mine.
“If one night is enough for you.”
Chapter thirty-two
Claire
I’ve decided to fake it ‘til I make it, but the minute Remy’s mouth crashes into mine, I know I won’t be faking anything tonight. His tongue parts my lips without hesitation, seeking mine and finding it before staking his possession of it. His kiss is desperate and needy, which makes me wonder if he tried to put up a fight for his benefit or mine.
We’ve kissed before, but something about this time is different. It’s like we’ve surrendered to one another in this moment, like no one is holding back. I wrap my arm around his neck, feeling suddenly overwhelmed in the best way. Remy responds by slipping his knee beneath my thigh at the same time he lifts me around the waist, leaving me weightless, breathless. Instinct guides me to wrap my legs tight around him, hoping it will alleviate some of the aching need in my core. It doesn’t.
When his lips leave mine, it feels cruel… like a punishment for something from a past life, penance for a crime I have no knowledge of. Except, that’s not true. If he wants to punish me for anything, it’s for acting like I did in front of his brother… for letting him think I have any interest in the man who tried to destroy me. But Wes didn’t destroy me; he made me stronger.
If Remy means to punish me, he isn’t doing it by walking away from me. His lips leave mine, but never me, though it turns into a series of quick kisses that he plants on the corner of my lips, the side of my chin, the edge of my jaw. It’s agonizingly slow and wonderful all at once as his soft kiss peppers the side of my neck, stopping for a moment to let his tongue lave over the skin there. I tighten my grip on him, my nails close to biting into the tender skin at the back of his neck, and when his teeth nip against the space between my neck and collarbone, I yelp.
