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“Lydia,” I growl, coming to my senses as I grab her hand, “we need to get out of here, now.”

She frowns up at me, giving me those damn eyes and batting her lashes like a fucking vixen. She pushes her body up against mine, her warmth rearranging my thoughts one at a time.

“Callum,” she whines. The sexy sound of her voice nearly has me second-guessing our escape plan. And as if to add insult to injury, she says, “I want to play with the big bad snake.”

Big bad snake? For fuck’s sake. Her hands lift my shirt as she presses her mouth against my chest, moaning while she trails her tongue down my abdomen.

Fuck this wrong place, right time bullshit. I lean down and lift her with a sigh, tossing her over my shoulder. She squeals, giggling and kicking her feet in the air.

“Come on, Cally baby, let me play with the snake,” she says, giggling like a half-crazed junkie.

I slap her ass for fun, earning a half-yelp, half-moan in response. The sound of it makes me regret my actions, if only because I can’t make her do it again right here and now.

I make it to the exit in no time, jogging toward my bike once we’re outside. Tossing her on the back, I hand her the helmet and climb in front of her. She pulls it over her head without question. It nearly swallows her whole, but it will have to do.

“Hold on, love,” I say, starting the engine and heading for the main road before the masked psycho can follow us.

Lydia wraps her arms tightly around me, laying her head against my back as we speed to her place. I feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against me, a slow rhythm that anchors me. The weight of her presence seeps into my soul, heavy and grounding as it stirs something within me.

She’s safe. She’s with me. She’s alive.

Knowing all of these things comes at a price, one that demands I never allow her to slip through my grasp again.

☽ ✦ ☽

I park my bike around the back of Lydia’s house to avoid attention, and we both climb off as she removes the helmet. I grab it and place it over a handlebar, fiddling with the chin strap a little longer than necessary.

Being near her now suddenly has me nervous and on edge. Things between us are shifting, and I’m struggling with how to handle that. Emotions that I thought I’d buried long ago are rising to the surface, suspended and fragile. One wrong step and we’ll both realize how thin the line between us has always been.

“Wanna come in?” she asks, smiling up at me, her eyes bright and full of life.

I can tell the all-consuming lust from before has long vanished, and all that remains are those gorgeous eyes that I’ve come to know so well. I may have seen them in a dream once or twice, or several times.

“Sure,” I say nonchalantly.

I don’t want to sound too eager, even though we’re far past that now. She smiles up at me, grabs my hand, and takes off skipping toward her front door. I don’t pull away or tell her that I’m fully capable of walking myself to her door. This time, I allow her to do all the silly things that make her, well … her.

We step inside her living room, and I instantly hear the jingle of her cat’s collar. Nyx trots up to Lydia, rubbing against her ankle while purring so loudly I can practically feel it in my bones. Lydia bends down and scoops the furry thing up, nuzzling her face against the cat’s head while stroking her back.

“Did you miss me, sweet girl?” Lydia says to the cat.

Nyx makes a little chirping sound back, as if in answer. I tilt my head to study the thing, wondering why it isn’t as feral as cats usually are. I once saw a cat launch itself at Raithe, sinking its claws into the skin of his thigh and clinging there, hissing like a feral little beast. I can’t say that Raithe didn’t deserve it, but after that incident, I kept my distance from all feline species. Cats are sneaky, conniving little creatures that cannot be trusted. At least, that’s what history has proven.

The silence stretches as I stand awkwardly next to Lydia while she continues to talk to her cunning little feline companion. I shove my hands into my pockets and rock slightly on my heels, the tension coiling tighter the longer I stand here. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be whatever we are. I still don’t know if I’m good enough to be what she needs.

Lydia sets the cat down, turning her attention to me as she arches a brow and narrows her eyes. “You can make yourself comfortable,” she says, waving a hand toward her sofa.

I shift nervously, unsure why I’m currently unable to behave like a normal fucking human. It’s not like I’ve never had a girlfriend before. Shit. Does Lydia even want to be my girlfriend? Ugh, I am too old to be asking myself these trivial questions.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, walking over to her sofa and making myself as comfortable as I possibly can with the nerves practically eating me alive.

I watch as Lydia refills Nyx’s cat bowls with food and water, readjusting myself on the cushions several times to try and appear natural, or at the very least, comfortable. I swear that I hear a faint chuckle from Lydia, and it makes me want to disappear into the cushions. God, why am I such a fucking weirdo when it comes to her?

“Everything okay there, big guy?” Lydia asks, eyeing me with a soft suspicion.

She walks over to a candle atop her kitchen island, grabs a match from a nearby drawer, and lights the wick. She wafts the smoke toward her, inhaling deeply as her eyes fall closed. A wide grin consumes her, and I watch in astonishment at the way she so easily exists in the here and now. She’s always taking in the pleasures of daily life, the things that I tell myself I don’t deserve or don’t have time for. I can’t even get the fuck out of my head for two seconds, much less live everyday life like that. It’s admirable, to say the least.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” I answer, masking my voice to sound calm and not all like the anxiety-riddled nonsense filling my thoughts.