Perfect Gravity (Wanted and Wired #2)(31)

Angela had risen and now knelt in the sand naked, like a stone Hatshepsut, dark and perfect and still. Looking at him.

“No, don’t just vid-message them. That’s your home. You need to go.” She took a breath, held it, folded her hands primly, determinedly over her burnished thighs. “I want you to go.”

A one-way ticket, she’d said. And not just because of his family, his commitments. She had even framed it up for him. My dependence on you is a problem.

The bottom fell out of Kellen’s universe, and he finally understood.

She wanted this for her own reasons. She was breaking up with him. She wanted him to go. And not come back.





Chapter 6


PENTARC ARCOLOGY, UNITED NORTH AMERICAN NATIONS, 2059

You watched me walk away. His words bore down on Angela, adding to an already crushing burden of guilt.

Despite all the cruelties she had endured in the years since, that particular memory hurt most of all. Even though, back then, she had been dishing the venom.

You watched me walk away. Yeah, she had. And it had destroyed him. She could see it on his face right now. That haunted, horrible look.

She had done that. To him.

God, had she really?

At the time, she’d been certain her reasons were valid. If she and Kellen had stayed together, neither of them would have grown strong or independent. They would have been blown off course, and neither would now be worthy of respect. They had been so foolish, so distracted in their infatuation. Their grades had slipped, both of them. She couldn’t let herself regret either her actions or her motives. But self-righteousness didn’t lessen the ache. And it sure as fuck didn’t salve that dark look on his face, half kicked puppy, half roiling fury.

And while the former twisted her soul in knots, physically, she was all too conditioned to respond to the latter.

“I never meant…” Words in whispers, cringing. She knew he couldn’t hear her, not from all the way over there, but he must have seen her mouth move.

Frowning like an angry god, he prowled toward her. Bigger than she remembered, imposing, taking up all the air. Angela pressed her back against the elevator doors and blessed them for being cool and solid and keeping her from falling down when her long bones liquefied.

Life had weathered him, but tired and jaded looked so good on his face. Really, really good. His jeans weren’t starched, and his western-cut shirt was only three-quarters buttoned, offering tantalizing glimpses of a body that no longer had a shred of boyish lankiness to it. He was all grown up now.

His dark-gold hair desperately needed tidying, and her fingers flexed to service. She knew exactly what that would feel like, to touch him, to tend him. But she was rooted like a rabbit, too fascinated to run, too scared to stay. Her mouth wetted. She swallowed.

He dipped into the shadow with her, and the space shrunk to nothing. She couldn’t breathe.

“I will repeat my earlier question,” he said in a low voice, a rumble that bathed her all over. “Why did you come here, Angela?”

Because you are my home base. Because I thought you wanted me here. Because somebody tried to kill me, and the only place in this whole world I have ever felt safe was in your arms.

“There’s a bruise above your left temple.” He brushed the side of his knuckle against her face, and Angela had to press her eyes shut and bite her lip. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her entire self focused on that point of connection, the brightest spot in her universe. It had been so long, so long.

“No, the other thing you ain’t saying.”

She opened her eyes and realized he’d gotten himself together. The haunted look was gone. He was even smiling slightly, a rakish half grin she remembered so well, like Rhett Butler at the bottom of the stairs. He still carried a lot of pain—she hadn’t been making it up; it had been right there, and she had seen it—but somehow he had…compartmentalized it. Pushed through it. Impressive. And here she couldn’t even keep herself from sneaking a touch.

She leaned into his hand and tried not to sound desperate. “My hotel was bombed the night before last, after I messaged you. I’m pretty sure someone tried to kill me, and whoever it is probably thinks they succeeded. I need to have my mech dredge data threads, figure out who’s talking to whom, though I do have some guesses. Mostly, I just need…time.” Her brain finished that sentence differently. She needed a safe spot, had thought that spot might be him. But it couldn’t be. No take-backsies.

“Feel free to settle a while here, then.” His hand was against her face still, strong and steady. He spread his fingers, cradling her.

She’d never seen this expression on Kellen before, not in all their years. He looked…fierce? No. Couldn’t be. Not him. And yet, that look. A shiver hot-noodled through her body, pooling low. She shifted her feet, absorbing the shudder and moving closer. To him, to warmth.

Their gazes locked, and she wanted to tell him everything. But more than that, she wanted to pull his head down and kiss him until thoughts like guilt and fear and regret disintegrated in a furnace of passion.

The sun was behind his head; she couldn’t see his face. He might have leant, and his mouth may have moved, like he was forming words. She rose on the balls of her feet, bringing her face closer to his, shifting until his fingers rested against her throat, then her collarbone. Could he feel her wild pulse?