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"I doubt it. The police haven't found anything to show that someone’s after me. It was probably just a random break-in."
I shake my head and she gives a frustrated sigh. "It's not like you want me here. Just let me go home."
"You don't know shit about what I want," I say, as emotions rush through me. Anger and lust churn in a volatile mixture and before I know what's happening, I'm dragging her into me and kissing her.
21
MIA
The kiss explodes through me,all heat and fury. In a way, it’s punishing. His lips meld mine, without giving me an option either way, his tongue skimming my lips. His arms are like iron around my waist, pulling me to his body as my head swims with the unexpected invasion. I can’t do much more than grasp his shoulders and for an instant, I want to push him away. I should push him away. I shouldn’t welcome this embrace, all forceful and commanding. I should be mad about the way he’s kissing me.
But behind the pressure of the kiss, I feel the desperation. The same need and devastation that crawls through me. He doesn't just want me. He needs me. He doesn’t need me, but he needs me just as much as I need him.
The realization swims through me and gives me my power back. I wrap my arms around his neck, running my fingers into his luscious curls, and pull him closer, tongues battling. Almost instantly, he softens before me, and the kiss gentles, more savoring than conquering. My heart takes flight and I feel like I’m on a cloud. It's like a storm followed by a cool spring. It's strange how he can make me feel such opposing things with ease. He’s such an enigma.
I love him.
The thought should terrify me, but I still hold on, with my arms around his neck, kissing him back, even though I know it will probably end in disaster.
I don’t know how, but one of us pulls back first. His eyes open and there’s an avalanche of desire in his gaze. There’s also a battle he’s raging with himself. He's as much under the spell of this passion between us, as I am. It probably bothers him that he feels this strongly about me, despite my betrayal. And I'm not sure if I’m hurt by that, or satisfied that at least he’s suffering the same thing I am.
Neither, I decide. Because my suffering is self-inflicted. I did this to myself and to him. I don’t deserve his forgiveness and I don’t want him to suffer anymore.
So, I pull back. I extract my arms from around his head and put them on his chest pushing.
He doesn't let me go easily.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers against my lips. His eyes meet mine, forceful in their frenzy. "You'll stay here until I decide it's safe. Got it?"
Usually, his bossiness would annoy me and I’d comment on it. But I don't think I should push him today, so I merely nod. And then when I nod, he finally turns and walks back upstairs, leaving me shaking with need and guilt.
Then again, I remind myself,it’s what I deserve.
A few seconds later, I go in to check on Chase. I detect thumping sounds as I approach and when I pull up the door, he’s sitting on the bed and throwing a baseball against the wall.
“Don’t do that,” I say automatically. “You might put a dent in the wall.”
“Wouldn’t want to put a dent inhisprecious wall,” he mutters, but then he holds the baseball in his hand and I walk to him. My heart warms knowing that my son is defensive, because of me, but I hate that I caused this rift between him and his father.
I sigh and sit next to him on the bed, waiting until he turns to me. “You’re mad," I say.
“I am. So when can we go home? They're done with whatever right? I don’t think I want to stay here anymore."
"Soon,” I tell him. I’m going to try and convince Luke later, that we can go home. They finished cleaning up the house weeks ago, and I don’t genuinely think anyone is after me. I would feel it if they were. “Sorry it’s taking so long."
He shrugs. "It wasn’t so bad staying here at first. I actually kinda liked it, but I can’t stand the fact that Luke's clearly looking down on my mom.”
“He’s not looking down on me,” I tell him. “That’s not the situation at all.”
“Oh yeah? Then why has he been treating you like dirt for the past few days.”
“Chase, Luke and I argued, yes, but it’s not what you think. He’s not a bad person at all, and he’s not looking down on me. In fact, the fight is my fault.”
“Is it because of Mikey's fight at school?” he asks quietly. "It's not your fault that Mikey thinks you're the bee's knees. I think you're cool too."
Emotion overwhelms me. I shake my head, pulling my son into a hug, and this time, he doesn’t try to remove himself.
“No,” I tell him. “We argued about something else. I kept a secret from him, a very important secret. And now he’s found out, so he’s angry at me."
