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He shakes his head. “Just the right shoulder. The left hurts more in the elbow.”
I examine both arms. I don’t know what a dislocated shoulder or elbow looks like, so I have no idea how to verify it. And if either of his arms is dislocated, I have no idea how to pop it back into place.
He smiles up at me with a knowing look.
“What?”
“You’re adorable when you’re concerned about me.”
“I’m not—” But I stop myself, because of course, I’m concerned about him. “Do you remember what happened up there?”
His smile drops. “No. I remember holding you in my arms. I remember the sounds you made when you came.”
I blush.
“But, I don’t remember anything after the drugs entered my system.”
We both stare at each other, locking eyes now that we’ve been through a similar situation. Langston knows that I truly don’t remember anything from being tortured, just like he doesn’t remember.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he says.
“Don’t be, you had every reason. Just like I have every reason not to trust you—you’re still planning on killing me at the end of all of this, after all.”
Langston frowns but doesn’t correct me.
“What do I need to do about your shoulder and elbow?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? But your shoulder is dislocated, and your elbow is in pain. Shouldn’t I pop it back in place or something?”
He grins at me. “Are you going to let me sit up yet, or do I have to wrestle you until you are pinned underneath me? I’d enjoy either.”
I roll my eyes and then put my hands at his back, helping him up.
“Kiss me,” he says.
I blink ra
pidly, my mouth agape. I want to kiss him. I want to do more than kiss him, but I don’t understand where we stand. Every time I kiss him, touch him, get closer to him, I lose a little more of myself to him. I vowed a long time ago I’d never let a man have a claim to any part of me, especially not Langston.
He sighs and is about to give up on me, when I grab his head, turn him to me, and kiss him without any more doubts entering my head.
As soon as his lips hit mine, I’m lost to a fairytale land that only exists when I’m kissing this man. I don’t understand how my world can be so perfect only if his lips are pressed against mine. They are soft, warm and oddly comforting, while also being exciting and passionate. They send my heart into a flurry of heartbeats.
With my eyes closed, my tongue pushing into his mouth, and our lips locked, I forget where I am or how few moments we might have left in this world. None of that matters because I’m happier than I can ever remember.
I hear a pop, and I try to pull away, afraid that Langston got hit with another dart and will soon drop. But Langston grabs my bottom lip with his teeth and sucks, keeping my lips locked to his. I melt and cradle his head, hoping I’m not about to lose him to the pull of drugs once again.
Finally, he lets me pull away.
“Thank you,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow, not understanding.
“Don’t thank me for a kiss.”
His eyes cut down to his right arm. “Thanks for the distraction while I popped my shoulder back into place. Your kisses are better than any pain medication.”
