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Logic.
Reaching for his wrist, I removed his fingers from my tingling lips. His eyes flared with a sudden…heat? Anger? Desire? This man was a dangerous enigma. I needed to remember that. There was nothing more dangerous than an unpredictable person with a vengeance. A vengeance wrongly directed at me.
“I hope you find…Josie,” I said, gauging his reaction when I said her name. His face remained stoic. “And is she your…girlfriend?”
His lips curved up devilishly.
“Is she?” he taunted. Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms under my chest. The movement pushed up my breasts, and I felt a moment of power when his eyes latched onto them. Once again, his eyes flashed with a voracious hunger, primal and carnal. His lashes fluttered. “And no, she’s not. She’s my sister. Was my sister.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, stunned by his break in character. For a brief moment, there was vulnerability in his steely gaze. Just as quickly, his expression shuttered off, concealing him once again.
“I don’t need your fucking apologies,” he snapped. “What I need is for you to answer my questions.”
“I don’t have the answers.” My voice was subdued, a contrast to his fierce one.
“Then you better find them.” He took a step backward, toward the door, and a part of me instinctively mourned his absence. That part was a fucking idiot.
“Or what?” I snapped.
He flashed me another one of his grins. It was a grin that promised pain, promised death, promised pleasures that made my head spin.
Without answering, he slipped out the door.
* * *
I foundBeau in his room, a few halls down.
The room he was in was similar to mine—small desk, bed, and a large wardrobe. Unlike mine, there were two sets of everything.
Beau’s side was still bare minus the few clothes he had begun to hang up and photographs taped to the wall. The other half of the room was covered in photographs and paintings. Some were of cars and landscape while others depicted women in scantily clad clothing. They were all gorgeous, obviously made by the hand of a real artist.
Beau waved his hand in my face to capture my attention, and I reluctantly turned my attention away from an exquisite painting of what appeared to be a city. Chicago, perhaps. Or New York.
“You ready for dinner?” I asked, plopping onto his bed. My eyes latched on a framed photograph sitting beside his bed. It was of us, taken only a few months ago. My arm was around him as I smiled up at the camera. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but instead at me. There was something in his gaze…
Something I couldn’t pinpoint…
I remembered when that was taken. We had just driven back from Beau’s football game. They had lost, but Beau had been in such a good mood. He had taken me to Freddy’s Diner for a midnight feast.
My lips curved at the memory.
His hand grabbed my arm, opening it up, and I watched his finger dance over my skin, writing words into the sensitive flesh.
Do you remember when that was taken? he wrote. Goosebumps caused my skin to pebble. Everywhere he touched left a trail of tingles and heat in its wake. Addicting.
“Of course,” I replied back, smiling. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Before everything went to hell. “Do you remember that double date we went on? With Dick and Mandy?”
And yes, that was actually his name. Dick the dick. I had been dating him for two years when I convinced Beau to go on a date with Mandy Parkinson. She had been pining for him for years. We had decided to go sledding at the local park. Everything had been good until…well, until I discovered that Mandy and Dick were having an affair behind my back.
Beau had quite literally beaten the shit out of Dick, and Mandy had gone home in tears. The two of us spent the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate, people watching, and cuddling in front of the fire.
“That was one of the best days of my life,” I admitted, tentatively tracing my face in the photograph. “It showed me who I could trust…and it also taught me who I had in my corner. You’re my best friend, Beau.”
I turned away, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. I tried to show him through that eloquent look how much he meant to me, how badly I needed him in my life. Somewhere along the way, my feelings for him had twisted, becoming something more than friendship.
But I couldn’t tell him that. Not now. Not ever.
His eyes warmed as he reached forward and cupped my cheek. Instinctively, I turned my head to kiss his palm. In his presence, there was no fear or worry. The mysterious professors, the asshole stranger, my stepfather, they all faded away. All that existed in our tiny world was him and me.
