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I'm immediately kneeling next to her again, locking my eyes on hers, watching the transformation of her coming back to life.
Her chin trembles as she blinks, sending tears down her face.
The effect is heartbreaking.
Or...something.
Something inexplicable that's making my heart race and my breath quicken.
Something that's making my skin prickle and my fingertips itch, twitch. An urge to reach out and touch her pale cheek and brush the single tear that's falling down her face.
"Matthias," she finally says, her voice weak, her chin shaking.
Shit.
God fucking help me.
The tremor in her voice sends a lightning bolt streaking through my body. The white-hot heat settling in the last place it should be right now.
Seriously, Matthias?
What kind of sick fuck am I?
Apparently an uncontrollably manwhorish one, just like the tabloids are saying. I tuck my hand into my pockets, not trusting what they might do given free rein.
Maybe it's just nervousness,I try to tell myself. I hope it's not some misplaced, badly timed arousal at seeing Clarissa in a rare, vulnerable moment.
I shake my head and push the urgings of my traitorous body down and focus on her.
"Can I get you some water?" I ask, hoping she will snap back into the bitchy woman I know and am used to hating.
But she just blinks and another fat tear falls down her translucent cheek.
Shit.
This time there's no restraining myself. I reach out and cup the side of her cheek as a flash of confusion flashes across her face. My eyes aren't even focused on hers as I watch the tear drip halfway down her face and pool on my thumb.
Then I lean in, my mouth trained on her trembling bottom lip.
And suddenly, I can think of nothing but what her mouth tastes like.
Our mouths are barely a breath apart when she lets out a little gasp.
And it shatters the illusion.
The illusion that there could be a single scenario where I would want to kiss Clarissa and her to let me.
Her face locks into a shocked mask as my head snaps back. I jump to my feet and try to put as much distance between us as possible. My balled-up fist slams against the wall I'd just knocked Patrick's head against, for trying to take advantage of her.
And now I was doing the same fucking thing.
"What in the fuck am I doing?" I yell. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
I rest my head against the wall, not ready to face her, taking in three deep, slow breaths.
One.
Two.
