Page 20 of The Editor’s Choice

I run my forefinger across the glass covering her face, leaving it smudged. A heaviness settles into my chest. It seems to have taken up residence there since she was killed.

The physical pain, like I can feel the strings of my heart giving way and snapping, has taken me under most nights. I don’t know how to do this life without her and the days aren’t getting any easier.

I’ve picked up on drinking, too. Terrible habit, I know. But I’ve found it’s the only thing that soothes my soul enough to allow me to rest at all. Looking at the bottle of wine on the table, guilt starts to roll over me in waves, threatening to drown me instead of the other way around.

Scrolling back through my messages with hazy eyes, I realize I haven’t heard anything new on the case in a couple days. The police have been all but absent. No new questions, no new suspects.

Thinking back to those texts I found between them, my soul splinters even further. Just when I think the hurt and betrayal is over, it finds me again, renewing my agony. I’ve lost everything recently. The people I cared about most are both gone from my life, leaving me empty.

As I’m falling down a rabbit hole of despair, there’s a loud rasp on my door.

“Hold on!” I shout, clambering my way to my feet. I struggle to stay upright once I’m there, the alcohol in my system finally hitting me full force. “Fuck, my head,” I say to myself, holding my right hand to my temple.

I make my way to the door, stumbling and nearly losing my footing over the rug in the entryway. I don’t even bother to look through the peephole before yanking the door open.

When I do, I find Roman standing on the other side, shitfaced. He’s every bit as plastered as I am and looking equally disturbed.

“Jade. Can I-“ he starts, fumbling for his words.

I move back toward the wall, opening the door wider in invitation. “Come on in. Looks like you could use some company.”

“Thanks. Appreciated,” he clips, making his way toward the kitchen but not before tripping on the same corner of that stupid rug. I try to stifle the giggle that threatens to slip out, though it’s really not much use. This grants me an eye roll and a middle finger, but it’s also accompanied by a sexy smirk playing across his lips as his eyes devour me.

I look over him and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. Really seeing him. He’s a gorgeous man to say the least. From the wavy, jet-black hair that reaches just above his eyebrows to the stubble growing across his chin and upper lip. He’s typically been clean shaven since I’ve met him, but I’m kinda digging this facial hair if I’m being honest. And those eyes. Dear god, I’ve never had any desire to drown, but I swear I feel like I could jump in and drown happily in those gorgeous ocean eyes. They have an insane intensity every time I catch him looking at me. I can feel the heat on my skin as he takes me in.

He bypasses the kitchen, then the living room, not stopping until he plops down face first onto my bed with a grunt, right after he fists the black shirt and pulls it over his head. I watch it land on the floor from the doorway, waiting for him to sit up or at least flip over onto his back. I’m damn near convinced he’s passed out already when he finally lifts his head and rolls over to his back.

He lifts one hand in the air before wiggling his finger at me in a ‘come here’ motion. I oblige, taking the other side of the bed and lying on my back beside him, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.

“Good to see I’m not the only one struggling with life tonight,” he says, gesturing to the half-unpacked boxes.

“Yeah, well,” I start, not wanting to make that trip back down memory lane again tonight. “Figured I might as well finish settling in here eventually.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he agrees. “I’ve gotten used to having you close by.” He nudges my shoulder, causing a half-smile to appear on my lips.

“It’s pretty nice here,” I admit. “Plus, the maintenance guy is pretty hot. You should check him out sometime.” I tease, nudging him back.

“Oh yeah? I bet he’s a dick,” he replies. I laugh and roll my eyes.

“Nah. He’s not been a dick to me at least. I can’t vouch for him otherwise though,” I shrug, a playful smile tugging at my mouth. The more our lighthearted banter flows, the more heat I feel between us. Each passing glance is filled with fire. Each touch creating a spark that only adds to the tension in the room.

When he runs the backs of his fingers down my arm, igniting a fire inside my veins, everything changes. His eyes are so filled with lust, but perhaps a bit more than just that. Before I can blink, he’s hovering over me, mouth poised an inch from mine, waiting for my move. Or at least my permission.

With a nearly imperceptible nod, his lips crash into mine, enveloping me in a kiss that nearly drowns me in passion. His tongue presses against my lower lip, pleading for entrance. I grant it and he instantly begins exploring my mouth, like a starved man searching out a hot meal.

There’s possession in his kiss, but there’s an underlying ferocity in it as well. Yet it’s also tender and all-consuming. By the time the contact is broken, I’m panting, eyes taking too long to refocus.

Add the insane amount of alcohol in my system to the equation and it’s a recipe for disaster, but I couldn’t possibly care less. I’ve never been kissed like that before.

I slip my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back to me and into another soul-crushing kiss. In seconds, there are low moans between us, though I have no idea if they’re coming from me or him.

I run one hand down and across his shoulder while the other tugs at his hair. He emits a low growl when I bite his lip, pulling his hair taut at the same time.

He breaks my hold, moving to pin my wrists to either side of the bed beside my head, eliciting a small whimper from me before I can stop it from escaping my lips. His weight bears down on me, pinning me in place, as he licks my skin, shoulder to the hollow of my neck, goosebumps rising in his wake.

His teeth sink into the tender flesh of my neck, forcing a gasp from my lungs. I pull against his hands, trying like hell to remove his vice-like grip so I can touch him again, but his fingers hold true, keeping me pinned beneath him. When he releases my neck, I catch the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

I narrow my eyes at his enjoyment, renewing my efforts to free myself. I manage to rip one hand from his grasp and my fingernails find purchase along this shoulder blade. It’s enough to welt the skin, leaving it red and angry. It’s also enough to earn me a low moan from deep in his chest. Apparently, pain is his game too.