Frayed (Connections, #4)(57)

I kiss the top of her head, the only place I know won’t hurt her. “There will be other nights.”

She drinks the water, sets the glass down, and opens the refrigerator, removing a few lemons from the bag. She sniffs them and I pause to watch her. She sets them on the counter, cuts one in half, and squeezes the juice up her arm. I watch her curiously as she repeats this process on the other arm and winces.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

She turns toward me. “Cleansing my skin. I usually rub them up my arm, but I think that might sting more than it already does.”

I bunch my eyebrows.

“What?” she asks. “It’s common knowledge lemon juice is good for your skin, so it should help with sunburn too.”

“Yeah, but don’t most people squeeze them into their water?”

She shrugs. “I’m not like most people.”

“No. No, you’re not.” I laugh.

As I walk out the door now knowing why she always smells of lemon, I’m surprisingly not thinking about how our night has been ruined but rather about how I’m glad I’m here to take care of her.

The grocery store is quiet at this time of night as I push my cart through the aisles. I’ve decided to pick up a few things since I’m not sure she’ll be going out this weekend. My phone beeps and I slide it out of my pocket. It’s S’belle.

Did I say thank you?

You did and I told you you didn’t have to say that, but I think I’ve changed my mind.

Did I tell you I was really looking forward to tonight?

You did. Don’t you want to know why I changed my mind?

Did I tell you I really wanted to have sex with you tonight?

I nearly drop my phone. Fuck, she must be trying to kill me. I hurry up and pay for my cartload of shit and throw the bags in the car. By the time I get in my phone has beeped again.

Did you get my last text?

I did. And I think you’re trying to kill me.

No, I’m not. And I really do want to know what changed your mind.

Because whenever you get over this sunburn, I have a few ILLUSTRATED ways in mind that you can say thank you. Do you get my drift?

I capitalized illustrated so she might pick up my hint. When she doesn’t respond right away, I put the car in DRIVE and head back to her place, assuming she didn’t get it.

When I get back to her apartment, I pull the chain lock across the door and yell out, “Red.”

“I’m in my bedroom.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes!” I can hear her laughing from here.

Setting the bags on the counter, I glance around again. I see a few personal things but not much, not even pictures.

“Are you coming?” she calls.

“I’ll be right there.” I throw the cold things into the fridge and freezer, grab a few water bottles from the pack I bought, the bottle of aspirin, the aloe, and walk down the hall. I know which room is hers immediately because there’s a candle glow from the doorway. Her bedroom is much like the living room—plain with very little in terms of décor. She’s lying on the bed with practically nothing on—as I said, she’s trying to kill me. She’s in a loose-fitting pair of lightweight sleep shorts and a thin-strapped tank top. Both are white. Both see-through.

“Hey, I got some stuff that should make you feel better.”

She glances up at me and I can tell there’s something bothering her. I take her phone from her clutched hand and when I do it chirps—a text from Tate Wyatt. I set it on the night table. “Wyatt? At this time of night?”

She shrugs. “He must have a question.”

“Well, it’s after hours, so you can contact him tomorrow, right?”

She stares at me as if contemplating what I just said but doesn’t move to grab her phone.

“Everything all right?” I ask as I set the things in my hands down on the nightstand.

“Yes.”

When I sit beside her, my stomach jolts. I want to hold her, to kiss her, to f*ck her. But when I pull her chin toward me and stare into her eyes, I see tears.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m being stupid.”

“About?”

“I’m just surprised you ever gave me a second thought.”

I gently kiss her lips and whisper to her, “You’re the f*cking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Yes, I gave you a second thought.” Then I add, “Many second thoughts.”

Silence overtakes us as we both seem to get lost in our memories. When my lips graze hers again, she flinches. I pull back and take the aspirin bottle, pop the cap off, and pour out two. Then I twist the top of the water bottle off and hand her both. She swallows the pills. After I kick my sneakers off, I crawl up next to her so we’re face-to-face. I run my fingers through her strands of red hair and notice the blotchiness on the skin of her shoulders.

“Bell,” I say, caressing her cheek. “I remember the first time I saw you in the library. I remember every single detail about the night we spent together. And if you want to talk about it, I will. But there are some things that I think are better left in the past. I have this need to have you in my life. I don’t understand what it is, but I know I haven’t felt more whole or more alive in a very long time than I have with you these last six weeks.”