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“In the past—” I broke off because my throat was suddenly dry, swallowing. “I was never the first one to say 'I love you.' Ever. I always needed to hear those words before I’d go there. And — the other person had to want me more than I wanted them. I can’t believe I’m even saying this. But it's a funny thing about being with you. I can only tell you the truth.”
His arms tightened around me. His silence was agonizing. The one clue I had was the hammering of his heart against my back.
Seconds ticked away and I wondered if he was frozen, if my words had iced him over while he burned like a furnace inside.
So I threw a rock to break the ice.
“I heard about your mom.”
He squeezed me harder, tensing. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I saw Nick called tonight and I called him back. He was drunk and crying and babbling about how I was a fucking hypocrite and a coward who was living a life of lies. This was while you were putting your sister to bed — good times.”
The truth hit me: Patrick was talking too much. Underneath the ice, he was nervous as hell.
“Are you going to visit your mom?” I asked simply.
In the pause that followed, I counted my breaths in time with Patrick’s. His soft T-shirt and the rougher fabric of his jeans rubbed against my skin.
“Yes.”
“When did you decide that?”
“Right now.”
Impulsively, I rolled over to face him in the dark, the air thick with all the things we hadn't said. I put my hand on his chest.
“Your heart's beating so fast,” I whispered.
“You do that to me, Christina.”
“Uh-uh,” I teased, unsure if I was fishing or brushing him off. I was flustered suddenly, as nervous as Patrick. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Oh, you are.”
“Come on. I can't even believe Sydney thinks I put a spell on Dexter. My sister is the one who bewitches guys. Not me.”
“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”
My breath whooshed out. “Me?” I asked in a small voice.
“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
“You're the one who's had all the power. I can't stop thinking about you. I hear your voice everywhere.” The words rushed out, tripping on each other. “Sometimes I — I think I'm going to come just from hearing you speak. I almost have. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.”
“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it hurts.”
“Really?” I whispered. “Are you hurting right now?”
“Like you wouldn't believe.”
My hand darted to his crotch. Swiftly, he pinned my wrists to the pillow.
His breathing was labored, rough and intent — like he was already close. I wanted so badly to see his face, to read his expression, and yet I understood what he'd told me long ago.It’s harder to pretend in the dark.
“Tell me the truth.” My voice was husky. “Either way, I need to know.”
