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But to my surprise, his eyes meet mine, blinking away the bleak storm that shadowed them moments ago. “Nowhere, I was just remembering. It was a very long time ago.” His tone remains calm and soft, but it somehow feels empty at the same time.
Wordlessly, he places his head in my lap, right beside the book, before twisting to get comfortable. Flat on his back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, I know I’m instantly staring at a vulnerable side of him. A side I’m intrigued by, one I didn’t know would exist, but this little nugget only draws me closer to him.
Frozen in place with my coffee mug still pressed against my lips, I take one final sip before placing it on my nightstand, careful not to disturb him. The delicate touch of his head in my lap feels raw, tightening my chest with a mixture of concern and excitement, and I don’t want to break the spell that seems to have settled over us.
“My mother passed away when I was seven,” he breathes, linking his fingers together on his chest as his legs dangle over the side of the bed. My fingers reach for his hair, stroking over the cropped cut like he has length to play with, but it’s an instant source of comfort for me to offer, one which seems to soothe him as he nestles deeper into my body.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, hating those three words that feel like a pile of bullshit, but fuck, what else do you say?
“I’m not,” he admits, making my eyebrows rise to my hairline in a flash, before he continues. “The life we were leading, the life my father bestowed upon me… she didn’t need to be around for that.” My heart aches for him and the raw honesty in his voice as my other hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing in a show of silent support. I can’t imagine what he must have been through to believe death was the easy way out for his mother, but it must have been something painful.
“I wish you weren’t in a situation that hurt you so badly to feel that way.” My filter seems to have disappeared again around this man. Words tumble from my mouth before I can consider if they’re too intrusive or overbearing, but the sad smile that graces his lips tells me I’m okay.
“Yeah, me too. But then I wouldn’t be the man I am today, with my friends that I have. They’re my family, what’s important to me now, and I don’t regret them. Not one bit.” His truth hangs in the air, a solemn sense of calmness washing over us.
Clearing my throat as my fingers continue to run through his hair, I watch him with curiosity. “I mean, when you put it like that, I don’t think I would be happy in the safe house with anyone else but you. So if you're telling me this is the only way I could have met you, then I’ll have to agree.” My heart ricochets like crazy in my chest as he looks up at me, his eyes softening as they take me in.
“Somehow my gut tells me our paths would have crossed no matter what. A different place, a different time maybe, but the magnetism I feel toward you was meant to be felt, regardless of the circumstances.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Does this guy have a direct link to my mind? Did he hear the thoughts, worries, and uncertainties that swarmed my brain the moment he left this morning?
How the hell does he know just what to say and when to say it?
“I like the sound of that,” I mumble, barely hearing myself over the sound of my pulse ringing in my ears. If I thought I was melting into a puddle for this man before, I had no idea what was to follow, because this is on an entirely different level.
“Does that mean you don’t regret yesterday?” he asks, quirking a brow at me as he completely switches the conversation to us now, asking the question that’s been burning the tip of my tongue all morning.
“Never!” I holler, louder than necessary, which I don’t regret when I watch his face lighten with happiness. I feel a blush creeping up my neck as I run my tongue over my bottom lip, grinning like a Cheshire Cat at him. “For clarification, you don’t either, right?” My smile slips slightly before he rolls his eyes at me, lifting up from my lap as he comes to lie at my side.
“Never,” he says, repeating the word back to me in a whisper before pressing his lips against mine. They’re full, inviting, and oh-so-fucking soft.
When he pulls back, I groan, not wanting our exploration to end as he grins at me.
“Maybe, when this is all over, I could take you on a date. For real. No safe houses, no impending doom, just you and me, and some kind of sweet treat,” he states, searching my eyes as I gleam in response, my heart ready to burst with happiness at the fact we’re on the same page.
“You have yourself a date, Killer.”
NINE
Nate
Apart from thespace between the sheets with Benji, my favorite place in this safe house is most definitely the kitchen. It’s been five days, and this man has encouraged my cooking and baking constantly. I think he’s almost as addicted to the food I make as I am to him as a person.
It’s surreal, being here, the reason behind it grows fainter and fainter with every passing moment.
I can feel his eyes on me now, sitting on the bar stool at the countertop as he watches me ice the cupcakes I have lined up on the side.
I crave him.
I crave him like I’ve never craved anything else in my life.
The way he watches me, the passing touches, the lingering kisses, his woodsy scent that lingers on my skin.
Everything.
“How canLaw Abiding Citizenbe your favorite movie? There’s no romance in it,” I state, pointing my piping bag at him as he scoffs.
