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I sank into the seat and stared out the window. He took a sharp turn down a building-lined avenue. I grabbed the handle above my head.
“Where are we going?”
“I know where I want to go, but we’re lost.” He cut across two lanes and turned at the next street.
“We could use the GPS.” I put my foot back on the floorboard and held onto the armrest on the door.
“That’s not going to get us there.”
“Why do I feel like we’re talking about two different things?”
He stopped abruptly to let a pedestrian cross the street before he made another turn. Then he gunned the engine, racing a cab as it passed.
“Stone, what are you doing?”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to slow down.” I splayed my hands on the door and the center console.
“I meant out of this. Life.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.” I dropped my head down.
“Stop thinking about what you feel you can’t have. If there were endless possibilities, what would you want?”
I rounded my shoulders and refused to look at him.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Don’t hide from me.”
“Isn’t it enough I told you how you make me feel?” I shouted. “I’m trying. What more do you want from me?”
“I want it all.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Muriella
I slammedthe door to my bedroom, and darkness enveloped me. How could he ask for more when I was giving him all I could? This touching and opening up about my feelings had me completely exposed. As much as I hated the dark, I preferred to hide in the shadows. Stone was determined to bring me into full sunlight, even though I didn’t want to be there. Didn’t know how to be there.
Fumbling on the wall for the light switch, I hesitated before flipping it when a glow began to shine from my ceiling. I looked up. Hundreds of tiny stars glittered on the surface.
I sagged against the back of the door and just stared up, my irritation thawing. If this was how he fought, I was bound to lose. But if I got him in the end, was that really a defeat?
I slipped back into the hallway and was almost to his room when I heard noise coming from the kitchen. That’s where I found him, back at the coffee pot, another mess on the counter.
“When did you put those up?”
He turned, the tips of his ears tinged pink. “You liked sleeping under the stars so much, I thought you might like to do it every night.” My hand flew to my throat as tears stung my eyes. Alarm streaked across his face. “I can take them down.”
“Don’t you touch them,” I said, my voice scratchy.
He propped a hip against the counter. “Still mad at me?”
I grabbed the back of a barstool. The coffee pot began to brew, breaking the silence as I fought for an answer.
“I’m struggling, and I don’t want you to see that,” I finally said.
