The Certainty of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #5)(57)

She’s biting on her fingernails, a habit she’s developed over the last couple of weeks whenever she gets nervous. She has the television on, some infomercial playing, so it’s pretty clear she’s not paying attention to it.

‘What’s bothering you?’ I set the sodas down on the coffee table, sit down beside her on the sofa, and brush her hair off her shoulder. She’s wearing a black tank top and her hair’s up, so I can see her tattoos peeking out on her neck. ‘Is it Preston?’

‘What?’ She blinks at me, completely out of it.

I take her hand and move it away from her mouth so she can no longer bite her nails. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

Her body stiffens. ‘What is?’

‘The thing with Preston.’ I sketch my finger along the lines of her star tattoos. ‘He can’t hide forever.’

‘Oh.’ Her body unstiffens and she fixes her attention on the television. ‘That’s not what I’m worried about.’

‘Then what are you worried about?’ My hand moves from neck down to her shoulder, then to her side. I urge her to turn and look at me instead of staring at the television, but she fights it, shaking her head.

‘I can’t yet,’ she says quietly.

‘Can’t what?’

‘Talk to you just yet.’

That one stings a little. ‘Okay … we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.’

She nods her head up and down way too swiftly. There’s a pause where she fights to breath then suddenly she’s turning toward me, kissing me in desperation. It’s not the first time she’s done this, used me to distract herself from whatever’s she’s battling internally, but it’s harder to deal with after the other night, when we kissed, danced and had sex just for us, nothing else. I feel like we’re stepping backwards and I don’t want that. I want to keep going forward, away from the person I used to be and that shitty life I used to live, full of booze, gambling and meaningless sex.

I’m fighting between what’s right and wrong, while continuing to kiss her, when she suddenly pulls away, gasping for air. I open my mouth to ask her to please for the love of God explain to me what’s going on in that head of hers but then she starts to cry.

‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ she says, blinking through a veil of tears as she looks everywhere but at me. ‘I don’t think I can do this anymore.’

My heart plummets inside my chest, my lips still hovering over hers, my hands on her waist. ‘Do what anymore?’ I don’t want the answer, don’t want to hear what follows my question, don’t want to lose her.

‘Fight it.’ Tears are still flowing from her eyes, but I think she’s stopped crying. She sucks in several breaths and when she looks at me, her eyes are clearer than I anticipated. She’s scared shitless – that’s clear – but it’s like she’s stopped fighting the fear, giving into it instead.

Her lips part and I almost stop whatever she’s about to say, silence her with my lips, but I don’t, forcing myself to hear, needing to know what’s got her all worked up.

‘I think I’m in love with you,’ she says, her chest heaving with every ravenous breath she takes, yet her voice is astonishingly even and she manages to maintain my gaze.

My voice however is the exact opposite of even, coming out all high pitched like I’m thirteen years old and going through puberty all over again. ‘What?’

She sucks in a breath, then releases it slowly, the fear in her eyes subsiding, as if she’s just won it. ‘I think I’m in love with you …’ She bites on her lips and shakes her head. ‘No … I don’t think. I know.’

I gradually process her words and the full extent of what she’s saying. I think I’d honestly believed that she might never say them, that this love thing was going to be a one-way street. Hearing her say it … I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like my entire life I’ve associated the word with hatred. Every time my mother said it, it felt like she was trying to take something from me and it made me hate her and myself – love equaled hate for me. But hearing it from Violet’s lips, seeing that look in her eyes, the one I’ve never seen from anyone, is so different. She’s not taking something from me right now, she’s giving me something.

She’s giving me everything.

I can’t control myself. I smash my lips against her, probably too roughly. But she doesn’t seem to mind, kissing me back just as intensely, her fingers tugging through my hair as she pulls me closer, consuming me with her lips as her body lifts to meet mine. It’s like she needs every part of her touching me, but it’s not enough. Nothing feels like it could ever be close enough.

As her legs fasten around mine, I grip tightly onto her and stand up, carrying her with me as I head back to the room. Our lips stay sealed, only parting so she can yank my shirt off when we reach the hallway. We bump into walls, slam into tables, knock over the lamp on our way into the room, but we laugh against each other’s lips, never parting. When I reach the bed, I fall blindly onto it, catching us with my hands. I take the opportunity to pull her shirt off and unclasp her bra. Then I lean back and take in the sight of her, every speck of flesh, every freckle, every line of ink she has. So f*cking gorgeous I can’t stand it. I feel like I’m about to combust. I want her so badly that my body is throbbing, my veins pulsating with desire and need.