Ruined (The Eternal Balance #1)(17)
I needed to say something witty to break the tension. “If you’re going to try negotiating another kiss you’re out of luck.”
A wicked smile crept across his face and suddenly it was impossible to concentrate. The basement, normally so much colder than the main floor of the club, felt like Texas in July. My clothes, the ones that only a moment ago felt too revealing, were constricting and in the way. He leaned across and took the bottle, making a move to put it back on the shelf. On the way up, his arm grazed my cheek, the sleeve riding up so that it was skin on skin, and a tiny gasp slipped from my lips. He stretched farther, like he was trying to reach the next shelf, letting his free hand skim up my bare arm and past my shoulder. The touch was so light, barely there, yet the most incredibly electric thing I’d ever experienced. It left me burning and desperate, on the verge of dragging him close and begging him to put his hands all over my body.
When he was done, he paused by my ear, warm breath caressing my cheek, and whispered, “If I want a kiss, trust me, I’ll get one.”
If the reaction from his body pressed close against me was any indication, then he did want that kiss. And more.
When he finally pulled away, the expression on his face had morphed from jovial to serious. “What I want is for you to tell me the truth. What happened at Huntington?”
An icy wave of panic rolled over me. Admitting it happened, out loud, scared me nearly as much as the actual attack had. If I didn’t speak about it, then I could pretend it wasn’t real. Even though a masochistic part of me wanted him to keep going, to push past and claim my personal space as his own, my breath faltered and the walls sprang up.
A million retorts bubbled to the surface and I bit down hard on my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret. We stood there, eye to eye, neither of us willing to budge. The air cooled and fire between us fizzled, and all the rejection I felt when he turned his back and left came rushing to the surface again. “This should really go without saying, but why the hell do you care?”
“Because I know there’s something going on and I’m worried.”
“If you were so concerned about me then you should have stuck around.” The bitterness in my voice grated. “Can’t just walk back into my life and plant yourself in the center again.”
I pushed him, but he wouldn’t budge. It only made me angrier. More helpless. There was too much of that in my life right now. The shitty job. The lack of direction. The overdue bills piling up. I was giving inches and life was taking miles. I’d reached the breaking point. An explosion had been building for some time now, and how poetic was it that Jax was conveniently standing right here?
“What you did was selfish. Whatever your issues were, it was easier to run away than stay here and face them. A coward,” I breathed. “You’re a damn coward.”
“You don’t know what the f*ck you’re talking about,” he snapped, then softened just a bit.”I didn’t just decide to leave on a whim. I had a damn good reason. And it really pisses me off that you could even think it was a careless, spur-of-the-moment choice and that it didn’t rip me the f*ck apart.” He grabbed the shelf on either side of my head and leaned close again. “Just tell me what the hell happened at Huntington.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he growled, then took a deep breath. “You need to tell someone, Sammy. For your own sanity.”
“I was attacked.” The words spilled out before I could stop them. It was him. The cosmic pull he had on every part of me. Mind, body, and soul.
My heart pounded, a thundering echo inside my chest, and a rush of anger crashed over me. It chased away the hurt and replaced it with pure rage. That he’d gotten what he wanted. That I’d had to say it out loud. That I, in some small way, blamed him for the whole thing. It was completely irrational, but I couldn’t push the feelings aside.
I braced my hands against his chest and gave a good shove, this time putting some solid distance between us. Do. Not. Cry. “Someone attacked me on my way home from a party one night and I couldn’t take it. I ran away. Are you happy now? You know the truth. Do you feel better?”
For the longest moment he said nothing. He was staring at me with the strangest expression. Not anger or confusion. Not pain or regret. It was like he was concentrating. I could see him breathing. The steady, slightly quickened rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled, and then, the flexing of his right hand. I was just about to scream at him again when he finally spoke.
“No,” he said, almost too low for me to hear. “I don’t feel better.”
A tickle in my belly. That sinking feeling that comes when you say or do something that can’t be taken back. More than embarrassment. Mortification. Heat flamed to life in my cheeks, and I knotted both fists tight, determined not to lose it in front of him again. While saying it out loud lifted the two-ton weight that had been crushing me, it also let that raw, wounded part of my soul spill out.
I wanted to stop at that, but the words just kept coming. “I left a party. Halfway home, someone came up behind me… He tried to wrestle me into the shadows and everything got dark really fast. I don’t remember much. Whoever it was covered my mouth with a rag…I dunno…” I’d gone to the police. They’d taken a statement and made a promise to look into it. Miraculously, I hadn’t been badly hurt so it wasn’t a priority.