Cole’s mouth opened, and he gave a quick jerk of his head. “I— That’s not— That’s beside the point—”
“No.” I shook my head and jabbed him once with my index finger. His chest was a solid wall, and I had to drop my hand to keep my thoughts straight. “It’s not. You obviously thought I was old enough to see a rated-R movie when I was fifteen. Which means you either think society’s standards about age are arbitrary and meaningless, or you think I’m more mature than the average minor. Either way, my age really shouldn’t be—”
“But it is.” Cole stepped into my space, scowling now. His perfect face was flushed, and I could see a vein leaping in his neck. “Because the way I feel about you is criminal. And there’s nothingarbitraryabout—”
His words hung from his open mouth, and, again, I saw a flicker of fear cross his face.
“About what?”
Cole clapped his mouth shut, the look of fear giving way to something worse. Was it shame?
“…the way I feel about you is criminal.”
At once, my skin — from the top of my scalp the soles of my feet — lit like a match. And not with embarrassment. This heat was of thehot-and-botheredvariety. And as hot as I was, I discovered it didn’t bother me one bit.
“What were you going to say?” I asked softly.
Cole’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell me. He wasn’t going to let himself utter the name of a crime I suddenly wanted him to commit.
And before I could say it for him, Cole turned on his heel and left me standing in the cold. All hot and bothered.
Chapter 12
COLE
Statutory rape.
I’d actually almost said those words to Elise Cormier.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I stood in the spacious front hall of my parents’ house — surrounded on all sides by dozens of people from my father’s law firm and all of their plus-ones — nodding to Ed Vance, one of my father’s partners. I had no idea what he was saying because Elise had just walked across the room behind him.
She was carrying a tray of bacon-wrapped dates, and she wore a green velvet dress that skimmed over her curves and took my eyes hostage. Instead of looking at me, she turned away, and I almost went weak-kneed at the lacy cutout that exposed her back. Shoulder blade to shoulder blade. From just below her nape to just above the small of her back, she was bare except for the filigree of dark green lace. My fingers itched to touch her ivory skin. I wanted to press my fingertips to that lace and feel her through its emptiness. I wanted to take that tray from her hands, throw it in the fireplace, and race with her out the front door. Never look back.
“…but anyone who was paying attention could have seen this crisis coming. Subprime loans? How long could that last?” Ed Vance talked on unchecked. Again I nodded, murmuring some sound of assent. I looked at Ed. Blinked. Let my eyes find her again. Even if I wasn’t looking directly at her, I knew exactly where she was.
Look at me.
I wanted to tell her I was sorry for kissing her. No. Not for kissing her. I’d never be sorry for that. And she’d been right. Shehadkissed me first.
I smiled at Ed Vance.She kissed me first,I wanted to tell him. He frowned at me as I heard his words filter too late into my brain. Something about foreclosure and families living in cars.
I shook my head and frowned back, trying to focus. But then Elise slipped into the living room.
Please look at me.
I could still see her through the arched doorway. In that dress, with her soft makeup, her lips painted burgundy, and her hair swept up in that beaded clip I was sure she’d made, Elise did not look sixteen. Not even close. She could have walked into a club even without a fake ID.
Why did she have to be sixteen?
Or why couldn’tIbe sixteen? And someone else? Someone who lived next door. Someone who didn’t have to hit the weight room at six in the morning to make sure I could still take my father. Or at least hold my own. Someone who didn’t have to sleep with the bedroom door open so I could hear my mother’s voice in bed at night. To make sure she wasn’t crying in pain. Or fear.
Because then I could close that door, climb out my window, and cross night’s shadows to find Elise’s window. Slip inside…
The memory of her taste hit me like a blow. She’d tasted like sweet tea. Like sweet tea and apricots. Like innocence.
And I’d told her about my criminal thoughts.
