Page 19 of Grace

I fell straight into Chase’s arms, his fingers sticky with my dried blood. His closeness—and the sight of the blood—made me think of Daisy and Jamie.

I wanted to push him away, but my leg cramped viciously. Chase lifted his bloodied hand and brushed my hair back from my face.

An unbearable pain tore through my body. I shifted between growling, groaning, and whimpering, then finally bit down on my lip to suppress the pleasant tingling deep in my belly. His masculine scent didn’t help—but I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who flirted with everyone, so I shoved him away from me. My head slammed into the side of the van. The bandage on my leg soaked through instantly.

Chase calmly washed his hands and put the medical kit away. “You still don’t want me to take you home?”

I sat up with difficulty. Heat pulsed through my body, and a thin layer of sweat coated my skin. The van was scorching hot. The strange mix of pain and desire nearly made my heart explode. I didn’t know how to answer, so I changed the subject.

“You were right about Mr. Miller.”

Chase looked at me, darkness in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists.

“He tried something?” he asked, growling through clenched teeth.

“No. But after he saw us kissing, he cornered me alone in the classroom and asked about us. And he asked if I liked older men.”

“And what did you say?”

“No. Of course.”

He nodded.

“Billy Ray?”

“He’s cute, my age, and…” Seeing the stern look on his face made me freeze.

“And?”

“Perfect—as far as first love goes,” I said, crossing my arms over my breasts. I didn’t know why I wanted to piss him off, but I liked that he was angry.

“Look at yourself,” he said, tossing a mirror into my lap.

The mascara I’d applied earlier wasn’t waterproof, and the sweat and tears had washed it off. A thick black smear pooled beneath my eyes. I looked like a raccoon. I look… lame.

He handed me a damp cloth to wipe it off.

“Thanks,” I mumbled under my breath, feeling like an ignorant little girl, sinking in shame. But compared to him, I was an ignorant little girl. Just a girl. Nikky would be a much better match for him in age.

“What is it?” I asked, furrowing my brows in suspicion.

“You’re much prettier this way.”

My skin flushed, and heat crept up from my neck, a burning warmth consuming me from the inside out. My heart was racing dangerously.

“Could you open the door? It’s really hot—and it’d be better if I walked home.”

“Does he kiss better than me?”

The question stunned me, held me in place.

He crouched in front of me, then dropped to all fours. He moved over me, leaning so close the air vanished from my lungs. My eyes darted between his eyes and his lips.

“He’ll get better,” I whispered, gasping.

The answer twisted his lips into a dark, intoxicated smile—he seemed to savor the sound of my trembling breath. “I like that you don’t lie, Grace.”

“I don’t want to kiss you. I’m not like my sister,” I said.