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“What’s that?” he says in a breath that was barely words.
I shiver with pleasure. My thoughts become fragments, and I struggle to retain composure. “I told you that you don’t see yourself as you really are. You’re manipulating my words. ” Words not meant for me.
He tucks his head next to mine. The rough stubble on his jaw seductively scratches my cheek, heightening my senses. I don’t want this feeling to go away: being completely immersed in Isaiah’s strength, his body, his love.
“When I’m with you, even my past seems like a bad dream,” he says. “I’ve sat on this hill a hundred times, and all I used to see were lights that represented places where I wasn’t wanted, where I never belonged. Now, when you aren’t with me, I look east and know that one of those lights represents you, and I don’t feel alone anymore. ”
I stare out onto the east side of town. The sparkling lights in that area are more spread out than on the south side. “Where is your light, Isaiah?”
Isaiah shifts as his hand goes into his pocket and extracts a lighter. In one smooth motion, he flicks the wheel against the flint and a single flame bursts into the darkness. The small wild flame licks against the night and fights to stay alive as the wind blows over the top of the hill. Like a moth, my hand slides over the flame—craving the warmth, daring to be burned.
Maybe this is what happens when you fall in love. On the outside a lighter is nothing amazing, but it holds all the ingredients that can create something wonderful. With a few pushes in the right direction, you can inspire something so brilliant that it pushes back the darkness.
As Isaiah holds the light close enough to warm me, but far enough away to keep me safe, I wonder if this is the reason why I’ve always been drawn to a flame. I’ve been hoping to be burned. I’ve been hoping to be loved.
I turn my head toward Isaiah. His silver eyes glow as he stares at me with the same intensity as the first night in his apartment. That night, his gaze frightened me. Tonight, I know that it means love.
“You’re the first person to ever see me,” whispers Isaiah as he releases the lighter. He flips the top back on and in a swift motion he presses the still-warm metal into my hand. “I want you to keep it. ”
My mouth drops open. He’s protective of that lighter. I’ve seen how he holds it, how he looks at it, and now understanding what it means, it would be like me giving him my car. “Isaiah. . . ”
“I want to know I’m with you. It’s all I’ve got to give, so please, take it. ”
I touch the double row of silver hoop earrings hanging from his left ear, trail along his jawline, his neck, down his shoulder, to the flaming tail of the dragon on his arm. He
leans into the caress, and my own body feels on fire with the continued way his eyes gaze upon me. The first moment I saw him, the night people clamored over each other to step out of his way, I was frightened. The guy with earrings and tattoos and an energy radiating danger. Now—inside and out—all I see is beauty.
“Isaiah. . . I love you, too. ”
Chapter 51
Isaiah
A NORTHERN GUST HEAVY WITH moisture sweeps across the hill, and Rachel shivers. Cold water droplets hit my bare skin. There’s a chance we could lose our mild winter tonight to snow.
I stand, snatch the blanket off the ground and love how Rachel automatically accepts my offered hand as I guide her to my car. She hesitates as I open the passenger-side door. “I don’t want to go home yet. ”
There’s innocence in her eyes, an innocence I lost years ago, so I know there’s no underlying meaning in her statement. I move the seat and Rachel slides into the back. Freezing rain pelts like bullets as I follow. I shut the door and rain patters against the car.
“Did you get wet?” I ask her.
Rachel shakes her head as she grabs for the blanket. I lean into the front, turn the engine over, crank the heat and click on the parking lights to illuminate the console. I slip back beside Rachel and wonder how the two of us ended up like this. “I’ve never had a girl in the backseat of my car. ”
The wrinkles in her forehead scream disbelief. “I’m not stupid, Isaiah. I know I’m not your first kiss or. . . you know. ”
No, she’s not. “Sounds awful, but I respected my car too much to bring girls. . . ” I’m right. It does sound awful.
Rachel grows quiet. The rain drives harder against the windshield and even with the heater running, the temperature plummets. “Honestly, do you not want me in your car?”
“Rachel, you’re the only girl I’ve wanted in this car. ”
Her body trembles as if she’s having a seizure. “Ar-re y-you s-sure?”
I wedge my hands beneath her legs and lift her onto my lap. Rachel relaxes her head into the crook of my neck as I bundle us in the blanket. “Never been more sure of anything. ”
Resting my cheek against her, I inhale her sweet scent. “You remind me of the ocean. ”
“It’s my perfume. ” I hear the smile in her voice. Her hand peeks out of the blanket and I knot my fingers with hers.
