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She runs toward me and stops a breath away. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.”
Her fingers touch the cut on my brow and I wince. Tears glisten in her eyes and she starts to remove her hand, but I grab it, flattening her palm against my cheek. “I’m fine. I expected this.”
“I hate this. I hate Dad like this. He almost drowned you out there… You almost died, Nate.”
“I would’ve done the same if I were in his place, except the killing part, because that will land him in prison.”
“Nate!” She pushes at my chest, straight on the bruise, and I groan.
“What’s wrong?” She starts to inspect my chest and gasps at the view. “Oh, God.”
“It’s nothing.” I button my shirt and she helps me, her fingers trembling when they reach the top. “Hey, this is nothing. We had worse fights than this when we were young.”
“Maybe you should leave, Nate. For now, just go and I’ll talk to him—”
“No, you won’t. I will.”
“But—”
“I’ve known him longer than you have and I can deal with him.”
“What if he hurts you again?”
“He won’t. I can protect myself.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Now, where is he?”
“In his office, I think.” She digs her nails into my shirt, not wanting to let me go.
So I lower my head and claim her mouth. I suck on her bottom lip until she opens with a moan. My hand fists in her wet hair and I feast on her taste, a mixture of vanilla and whatever she’s feeling at the moment. Right now, it’s despair. And I take that for myself so she doesn’t have those negative emotions anymore.
I never liked kissing. Never engaged in it either, but I want to keep kissing her until I’m out of air and she’s the only oxygen I breathe.
I want to keep feeling her body clinging to mine, her softness molding against my hardness and her moans filling the air.
Those moans and sounds are for me.
Only me.
I almost died because I kissed her not so long ago, but I will still repeat it. I will still risk death for her.
But I don’t want her to risk anything in case King sees us again.
So I begrudgingly pull back, relinquishing her sweet lips.
She’s panting, her eyes darkening with a bright green color, but she doesn’t look to be on the verge of a breakdown like earlier.
“Be careful,” she whispers and lets me go when I coax her to step aside.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her and stride out of the kitchen without a look back. Because if I do, I’ll be tempted not to leave her side.
If I do, I will take her away from here and give King the middle finger.
But that’s just not the smart thing to do in a situation like this.
