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I want her—the Keira I had before she stabbed me in the back.
I crave the woman who needed my protection. The one I would’ve taken a bullet for.
I keep staring at her shadowed form, the minutes ticking while the world stands still. Nothing changes. Not the relaxation in her body. Not the deathly silence. Nothing but my restraint.
I’m drawn to her.
My palms sweat with the need to feel her soft skin.
I can’t fight the stupidity anymore. What’s the point in struggling, anyway? I’ve got nothing left to lose. I no longer care what happens. Not about anything other than touching her. My hands have to be on her. If that gives her the opportunity to effortlessly slit my throat, then so be it.
She can kill me.
She can bathe in my blood and increase the destruction her family has rained on mine because there’s nothing I can do to stop the pummeling thoughts that tell me she’s i
I grab my gun, sliding it back under the far side of my pillow, and gently inch my way toward her. I listen for a change in her breathing. I continue to be attuned to her movements.
She doesn’t flinch.
I creep closer and closer, her heat seeping into me right before skin touches skin. That’s when everything stops. The gentle ebb and flow of sound ceases. She snaps rigid. I do, too.
But I don’t retreat. I can’t.
I nestle against her. Spooning. Her arms and thighs are bare against mine. The only thing between us is a thin cotton shirt and silken boxers as I weave my hand around her waist and drag her back into me.
She doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t succumb either.
Her body remains tight, while I rest my head on her pillow and place a kiss to the back of her neck.
That’s all it is. A brief brush of lips against her skin, but it’s everything.
The show of affection is my acquiescence. My capitulation to the devil.
She sucks in a shuddering breath, and one by one those muscles loosen. I hold her. Cling to her. I don’t look forward to ever having to let her go.
“Sebastian…”
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
I can’t face her questions. Her lies. I just need this. Her. For a little longer, until clarity sets in and I hate myself for succumbing all over again.
“Go to sleep.” I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. “We can keep fighting in the morning.”
The bullshit isn’t going anywhere. No matter how much I want her—need her—it doesn’t change our situation. We’re enemies, and that shit will never be resolved.
I wake up to her shifting in my arms. It’s only a faint movement, but I’m instantly alert, my eyes flashing open to the sunlight seeping through the edge of the curtains.
It’s late. If the brightness of the room is any indication, it’s close to midday.
I raise on one elbow, my swollen face and battered chest not appreciating the shift as I stare down at the woman in my arms. She’s still resting, her eyes closed, her body soft.
I no longer fight to understand the cloying feelings threatening to overwhelm me. Instead, I savor the calm. I teach myself to enjoy the temporary peace. Because it sure as fuck won’t last.
“You’re awake?” she murmurs.
“Yeah.” I inch away from her, not wanting to crowd her now that the bitter light of day has arrived.
“Don’t go. Lay with me a little longer.”
She doesn’t open her eyes. She lets those words do the pleading for her. And that’s all it takes—her words, her tone, the delicate sweep of those sultry lips. I wish for nothing more than to go back to the safe house where neither one of us had a clue we were deceiving each other.
I miss that ignorance.
“There’s no point putting off the inevitable.” I keep backing away.
“Let me pretend for a few more minutes,” she begs. “I’m not ready for this to end.”
She slays me. And I’m the stupid chump who can’t fucking deny her. I can’t deny myself either.
I let out a frustrated breath and sink back onto the mattress, reclaiming my position behind her with my arm draped around her stomach.
We’re both insane.
We lie so much we can’t face the truth.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I hate those words. I despise how they make me feel like more of a man for providing her with what she needs. There’s nothing more unhealthy than the two of us together.
“Quit thanking me,” I mutter. “We’re not doing ourselves any favors by pretending.”
“This isn’t me pretending, Sebastian. This is me hoping you’ll come to your senses and find the strength to trust me.” Her hand finds mine, entwining our fingers. It’s all romantic and shit. A dreamy existence in a waking nightmare.
“You said it yourself, trust doesn’t come easily.”
She nods. “And yet I found the will to trust you.”
No, she didn’t. She doesn’t trust me at all.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she utters. “And you’re wrong. I do trust you. I trusted you enough to risk starting a rumor that would endanger everyone I love. I hope, in time, you’ll be able to look beyond your anger to see what really happened.”
There is no anger. Not anymore.
All that’s left is pathetic weakness and punishing betrayal—for both of us.
“Please tell me about your sister.” There’s a delicate edge to her tone. A fragility that rips me apart. Like she’s been contemplating how to ask for hours.
My defenses shoot up. All those barriers I’ve honed through a dark sense of humor and a morbid death wish come out in full force.
Telling her more about Pe
“What do you want to know?” I become her slave, brushing my lips over her shoulder, the scent of her clean skin filling my lungs.
“Everything.” She squeezes my hand. “How old is she? What is she like? When was she taken?”
I focus on the freckles along her arm, determined not to close my eyes and face the sister who will stare back at me.
“She was…” Too young. Too sweet. Too vulnerable. “Smart.”
I place a kiss on her neck and swallow over the ache in my throat. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk about Pe
Keira doesn’t respond. She listens, never losing grip of my fingers.
“She didn’t wear make-up or dress in trendy clothes. She didn’t need to. She was pretty without all the glitz. Hell, from what I remember, she didn’t even pay the opposite sex much attention. Yet those high school boys were always testing my patience.”
“You were a protective older brother?”
“The worst.” I let out a breath of solemn laughter. “I remember this one guy who kept coming over because he wanted to hang out with her. Every time I’d tell him to get lost, but he wouldn’t listen. So I slashed his bike tires and told him I’d do the same to his throat if he ever stepped foot on our property again.”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “You didn’t.”
“I did. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt either. I knew what he was after even though she had no clue.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never shied away from a fight.” She turns toward me, those bright eyes taking in the war wounds that must be littered all over my face.
“I got into a few. But nothing that wasn’t fueled by teenage hormones.” I give a half-hearted smirk that quickly fades. “After I finished school, I packed up and moved out of town, just like my older brother had done a few years before. We weren’t there to look out for her anymore. She had nobody to keep the assholes at bay.”