Touch (Denazen #1)(33)

He took a deep breath. For a minute I didn’t think he’d continue.

“I thought I was different, though—I had Sue. She told me I’d make it through as long as I held onto my humanity. As long as I remembered she loved me, they couldn’t destroy that. But she was wrong.” He looked up at me, eyes glistening, and shook his head. “When I turned ten, they made me kill for the first time. They were graphic—very detailed. They said they’d peel the flesh from Sue’s body if I didn’t do as I was told. By the time I was twelve, I accepted my life. Denazen owned me.”

My mouth was dry. “No one owns you,” I whispered.

“I knew it was wrong. Everything about Denazen—it was all wrong. But then, when you left earlier, I found out I was wrong. I’m as much to blame for the bad I’ve done as they are. I could have made the choice Monica did. I could have refused to let them use me. You said I was strong, but I’m not. I’m weak.”

He reached down and ran his index finger from my thigh, right below the hem of my shorts, down to my knee. It left a trail of fire in its wake. “I don’t deserve this.”

For the second time in twenty-four hours, tears came easily. “Stop it,” I whispered. I didn’t know what this was, but the lump forming in my throat and the heat building in the pit of my stomach told me I needed to find out.

With his eyes on me, so sad, I couldn’t take it. I sat up and climbed onto his lap, resting my forehead against his. Inhaling, I committed his scent to memory. Earthy. Like the woods after a long rain. My arms slipped across his shoulders, and my lips found his. The kiss was tentative at first—brief. I pulled away until I could see his face. I’d had a lot of guys look at me like I was a fun vacation on the beach, but the way Kale’s ice-blue eyes devoured every inch of me, full of heat and hope, I felt like Christmas morning. Timeless and perfect.

It spurred me on. I leaned in again, but this time Kale met me halfway. His strong arms encircled my waist, dragging me closer. His mouth moved with mine and twice our teeth clinked, but it didn’t matter. When Alex first kissed me, our teeth had banged together. It made my skin crawl. Kale’s hands were everywhere—my neck, my face, under the back of my tank top—anywhere he could make skin-to-skin contact.

I drew his bottom lip in and nibbled. God, he tasted good. Like root beer and bubble gum and heat mixed with something unique. Something all Kale. His fingers clutched the sides of my face, sliding up to tangle in my hair. I broke our contact once again—despite his protests—and tugged off my tank top. He didn’t waste time staring. Urging me close, we crashed into each other, collapsing in a heap.

When I finally drew away again, we were lying across the bed, our legs intertwined with each other.

“I don’t deserve to feel like this.” His voice cracked. The weight of his gaze shattered me. “Not after everything I’ve done.”

“Come here,” I whispered. When he managed a sitting position, I pulled his shirt up over his head and ran my hands down his neck and across his shoulders. I remembered what he said about his daily training schedule. The weights and the hours of martial arts. He was in amazing shape. My index finger trailed down the middle of his chest and I fought back a shiver.

With each touch, his breath quickened. I could feel the heartbeat hammering inside his chest as he clung to me, almost as if he was terrified I’d let go.

Kale’s eyes were wide as he brought his hands from my face to my bare throat. His touch, like an electric current, slid down my neck and over my shoulders, then down each of my arms. I arched my back as he struggled to pull me closer, nails scraping bare skin in desperation. But I resisted with a sly smile—just to see what he’d do—and I wasn’t disappointed.

“Please,” he rasped as he pushed us down and turned me onto my back. “Please…”

I opened my mouth to tell him he didn’t need to beg, that I wanted this as much as he did, but his actions stopped me. Lowering himself, he slid one arm under the hollow of my back, the other resting across my stomach. Reaching over, he grabbed my hand and laced his fingers with mine. As he nuzzled my stomach, a soft noise escaped his throat.

The wind outside picked up as Kale’s breathing evened. I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes.

“I understand now, Dez,” he whispered sleepily. “I understand the hand thing.”





13


Before I opened my eyes the next morning, I knew Kale had gone. The room was quieter without his breathing. Colder.

I grabbed my tank top from the floor and pulled it over my head. The memory of last night brought a flush to my skin. I’d been prepared to go further—all the way, probably—but somehow, what happened between us was far more intimate than sex.

Gathering my things, I wandering to the bathroom in a daze. I showered, brushed my teeth, and dried my hair, all the while wearing a goofy grin and thinking about Kale. When I opened the bathroom door letting out the steam, the room cleared. And so did my head.

There was work to be done. Time to focus.

I found Dad downstairs at the kitchen table with his usual breakfast—a cup of coffee, a boysenberry scone, and The New York Times.

“Hey.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet. He glared at me in silence as I poured the off-limits coffee into the cup. “Last night’s bonding experience aside, I need to talk to you.”