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What, exactly? I can never be sure. I don’t let it get that far.
My fingers move of their own accord, slipping from my cheek to the tickle beneath my scalp, scraping and digging without conscious thought being in control. All the while, the need to fix the stack takes on a pulse inside me, an entity all its own, until I can’t focus on anything but.
Tap, tap, tap.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
I can taste my heartbeat in my throat as it jumps to epic proportions, its thunder deafening, and sweat beads along my hairline. Swallowing, I remember the words my mother used to utter when I was having a particularly bad episode.
Focus on something you can change. Imagine taking control until you’ve regained it.
“Are you okay?”
Boyd’s voice finally penetrates the fog collecting in my head, and I shake my thoughts free but can’t seem to tear my eyes from the atrocity across the room. He turns his head, following my line of sight, and after a few beats, reaches out and pushes the wonky book back in.
I heave a breath of relief, serotonin rushing to my extremities, and nearly collapse on my bed from the satisfaction. Wrapping one arm around the bedpost, I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Did you need something?”
He gives me a funny look but doesn’t press further. “I just came to make sure you didn’t tell anyone about what happened with us.”
“You mean when you walked into my bedroom unbidden and ogled me in my underwear?”
His expression flattens. “No, the other night downtown.”
“Oh, when you kissed me,” I half shout, still a little high from everything that’s just occurred.
“Christ,” he snaps, pushing to his feet. “Say it fucking louder, Fiona.”
“I would love to,” I say, giving him a sugary-sweet smile. “Boyd kissed—”
The palm slapping over my mouth catches me off guard, even though I watch as it all unfolds. What’s worse, it really turns me on—there’s something delicious in the way he throws me around, how he’s backed me into my own bedpost, the way he glares at me like I get under his skin.
I don’t know what’s happened in the last couple of weeks since the gala, but Boyd Kelly can’t seem to stay away from me.
And that’s the kind of control I want to have.
