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She held on as long as she could, not wanting to let go, but her body’s need for oxygen won. She exhaled as Carmine got up, but she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to face reality yet.
* * *
Carmine slipped out of the bedroom, needing to put some space between them. She had him twisted. Up was suddenly down, left was now right, and everything surrounding him was a blur. It was difficult for him to admit he was as inexperienced as her. He could fuck a girl senseless, but when it came to loving one, he had no clue what to do.
Love. The word perplexed him. He wasn’t swimming in lust anymore. This was uncharted territory, and he was fucking drowning.
Carmine walked over to the library and flicked on the light. Blinking a few times, he scanned the titles on the bookshelves, grabbing one before heading back to the bedroom. Haven lay on her stomach on his bed, her feet up by his pillows. He gave her a small smile and shut the door behind him, holding the book out to her. “The Secret Garden. Thought you might like it.”
She took it. “What’s it about?”
He shrugged. “A garden, maybe? A secret? I don’t know. Read it and tell me.”
“Uh . . .” she started, her brow furrowing as she eyed the cover.
He chuckled. A book flustered her. “Look, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna make you write a book report. Just thought it would give you something to do.”
“Oh, I want to! It’s just . . . what if your father finds it?”
“Don’t worry about him,” he said. “I got you covered.”
Her eyes glossed over with tears as she opened it halfway. “I don’t think I can read this. There are a lot of different words.”
“Well, I think you can do it,” he said. “Besides, you have help now.”
“Help?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want help, fine, but I’m happy to do what I can.”
She looked down at the book again. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed her word. “Is that an, ‘Okay, I’d like to do this reading shit with you,’ or is it an, ‘Okay, you’re really fucking nuts if you think you can help me?’”
She merely smiled, the sight of it telling him it was probably a combination of the two.
He kicked off his shoes and sat down next to her, playing a few chords on his guitar as she read the book. It made him warm inside, and for a while, it felt like it was normal . . . like they were normal. Just a boy and a girl, both of them a bit fucked up, but they were just themselves.
And he savored it.
He tried to keep his attention off her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but from the corner of his eye he could see the look of concentration on her face as she sounded out words. “What’s tyr—uh, this word?”
He set his guitar down and rolled onto his stomach, peeking over to see what she pointed at. His chin rested on her shoulder. “Tyrannical. It’s like a tyrant. You know, like a master.”
She turned to him, their faces so close the tips of their noses touched.
12
Haven stood in the kitchen, her mind wandering as she made cookies. She’d slipped out of bed an hour ago, her nerves on edge about last night. Her body controlled her when she was around Carmine, her heart taking the lead over her mind. Her mind told her it was ridiculous, dangerous to spend time with him, but her heart told her it was right.
She’d preheated the oven and put a batch in when there was a knock on the front door. Glancing out the window, she saw a small white car in the driveway. Whoever it was knocked again, more forceful the second time.
She couldn’t open the door. The alarm was enabled, and she still didn’t have a code. Quietly locked in a dilemma, she was relieved when Carmine stomped down the stairs. “Whoever’s at the fucking door better have a search warrant.”
Haven strolled to the doorway as he answered the door. Before he could say a word, someone shoved into him, barging into the house. “You’re such an asshole!”
While Haven was stunned, Carmine’s expression remained blank. “Lisa.”
“How could you do that to me last night?” Lisa spat, glaring at him, the look on her face reminiscent of Mistress Katrina yelling at Master Michael. She wondered what Carmine could have done to ignite such fury, but he wasn’t giving any indication of a response.
