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Sigh.
I feel his eyes on me in the dark of the car as we pull down a quiet street with bungalows, the moon lower on the horizon. I dare to meet them, wondering if he picked up on what I was thinking. There’s heat in his eyes, this dark intensity that I don’t see too often, the kind of look that makes my stomach flip.
I could crawl across the console and climb on top of him. We don’t even need to go inside the house. Just straddle him, kiss him, reach down and unzip his jeans…
That heat in his eyes flares, turning a supersaturated green that gleams in the car and he licks his lips, swallows, and I swear the tension between us is straining under the weight of his gaze. It’s ready to snap.
“Are you still high?”
His question catches me off-guard. I have to blink a few times, like I’ve been stuck in a cloud, like I can’t see straight.
“What?” I whisper, my voice coming out husky.
“The Vicodin,” he says.
Why is he asking me if I’m still high?
Oh my god. Maybe he is reading my thoughts, trying to look for an excuse for them. But I guarantee what I’m feeling isn’t the drugs.
Least I don’t think.
“No, it’s wearing off,” I tell him, my breath returning.
“You got to be careful with that stuff,” he says to me, parking the car. “Might make you feel things that aren’t real. Make you want to do things you shouldn’t.” Then he dips his head and looks out my window. “This seems to be the place.”
Before I can find my words, he’s opening the door and heading to the trunk, leaving me in the passenger seat. Was that his subtle way of telling me to back off? Can’t he be man enough to just tell it to me straight? I’m tired of drowning in all this murky uncertainty. He’s the one who just kissed me back there!
I unbuckle my seat belt and scamper out of the car, storming toward him.
“Hey!” I tell him sharply as he brings out my suitcase and closes the trunk.
“Hey what?” he says, his tone matching mine, letting the suitcase clatter to the ground.
I step right up to him, jab my finger in his chest. “You’re supposed to be the straight shooter here. That’s what you always say, no secrets, no lies, no bullshit. But you’re keeping me in the dark on purpose now.”
“No one is keeping you in the dark,” he says, glaring at me, but he’s lying, I know it, I can tell.
“You are. You’re hiding things from me.”
“Oh am I?” he asks sharply, eyes glinting. “Is that why you decided to poke around inside my head? Did you find what you’re looking for?”
“No, I didn’t,” I tell him. “I wanted to know how you felt about me.”
He’s taken aback. “How I felt about you?”
“The demon told me you have feelings for me,” I tell him, feeling a little stupid, like maybe I shouldn’t have just admitted that.
“Oh yeah?” he says, brows coming together, stepping closer to me until my finger bends and I’m pressing my hand against his chest, no distance between us. “What else did she tell you that you’ve happened to keep to yourself?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrow as he stares at me. “And you have the nerve to say I’m hiding things.”
“Then tell me. Tell me you have no feelings for me! Tell me you don’t want me and then I’ll just…back off.”
His eyes search mine with frantic energy, a kaleidoscope of emotions running through them, the heat from his chest short-circuiting against my palm.
“Who said I don’t want you?” he asks gruffly, gaze dropping to my lips. He places a hand at my chin, holding my face still. “Huh? Who said that? You?”
I stare at his mouth, feeling intoxicated by the weight of his stare. I swallow, finding it hard to breathe. “You kissed me back there and then acted like it didn’t matter to you. Like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to me. And no, it’s not the drugs talking.”
“Ada,” he says, clearing his throat, his hand letting go of my chin and moving back into my hair, his eyes following, roaming over my face. “There’s a very thin line that I don’t want to cross.”
“Because it’s against the rules,” I say, keeping my voice low, my eyes closing briefly as he holds the back of my neck.
“The rules?” He lets out a soft laugh, his fingers pressing into my scalp, gliding up into my hair until my entire body feels like its sparkling on the inside. “I’m my own person. I don’t have any rules to follow. And if I did, I’d break every one of them.”
“But not for me.” My chest squeezes with rejection. I keep my eyes closed. “You don’t…I’m not…”
