Wildcard (Warcross #2)(64)

I think back to the piercing gaze he’d given me during our last meeting. Underneath that had been fear, all along. “You told me you never wanted to see me again,” I manage to say.

His voice is low and raw. “Because every time I see you, it takes everything in me to turn away.”

I realize that I’m leaning toward him now, yearning for something more. He must be able to sense it through our connection, and as if in answer, I feel the need coming from him, shadows of what he wishes he could do, fleeting thoughts of his hand at my waist, pulling me in. The space between us feels alive, sparking with a searing desire to close.

He hesitates. With his heart exposed and vulnerable, I can now see the fear in his expression. “What do you want, Emika?” he whispers.

I close my eyes, take a breath, and open them again. “I want to stay.”

It is the last trembling rope holding him back. He closes the inches between us, takes my face in his hands, and leans down toward me. His lips touch mine.

Any sense of control I’d felt now shatters. He’s warm, his body familiar, and I fall into him. There is none of the gentle hesitation of our first kiss—this is deeper, more intense—both of us are making up for lost time.

My arms wrap around his neck. His hand pushes against the small of my back, pressing my body to his. My fingers run through his hair. He breaks our kiss only to touch his lips to my neck, and I exhale, shuddering at his warm breath against my skin. Glimpses and fantasies and sensations spark from his mind to mine, mine to his, leaving me tingling down to my toes.

I vaguely register him lifting me effortlessly into his arms. He’s carrying me toward the bed.

Don’t do this, I warn myself. You’re on thin ice. You need to keep a clear head.

But when we fall against the bedsheets, all I focus on is the cut of his jaw in the shadows. I admire the slant of deep blue light against his skin as I fumble with the buttons of his shirt and tug his belt loose. His hands are yanking my shirt up over my head, sliding along my skin. The cool air in the room hits my bare chest, and I’m struck with a sudden instinct to cover myself in front of him. But he stares down at me, his eyes dark with desire. A shy smile touches his lips. The city’s glow outside catches on his long lashes.

When I reach for him, he kisses me on the cheek, then trails his lips along my neck and my collar. His breathing is heavy and uneven, his hands warm and gentle. I tremble against him, and after a heartbeat I realize that he is shaking, too. I run a finger along the muscles of his chest down to his stomach, blushing at the way this simple touch makes him shiver. His mouth brushes against mine, asking me in a whisper what I want, and I tell him, and he gives it to me, and in this moment, I don’t think about anything else, not the Blackcoats, not Zero, not the dangers waiting for us. I just think about now. Just my body entwined with his. Just his sharp intake of breath, my name feverish on his lips, the cool sheets beneath us, the heat of him moving against me, my fingers clinging desperately to his back.

Just me.

Him.

And the gentle lapping of the ocean outside, ink under a midnight sky, separating us from the glittering city that awaits us.





23



One Day until the Warcross Closing Ceremony



I don’t stir until the first rays of dawn enter the room, casting a weak palette of light against the tangled sheets. For a moment, I can’t remember where I am—an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. The space next to me is empty. The room is rocking ever so slightly. A boat?

Slowly, the memories from the night before come back to me.

I frown, gathering the blankets around my chest and pulling myself up into a sitting position. Did Hideo leave? I look around the room until my eyes finally settle on a sliding glass door left ajar, beyond which the silhouette of a man stands bathed in gold, leaning against the ship’s railing and looking out at the city.

I let myself watch him for a moment. Then I reach for my clothes, pull them on, and slip out of his bed.

The air outside is still cool, smelling of salt and sea, and my skin prickles as I stop to lean against the open door. Two steaming mugs sit on a small table beside where Hideo’s standing. Morning dew lingers on the doors’ glass. I run an idle finger along it, noting the feel of the moisture, and remind myself that I’m in the real world now, not in a virtual one.

Hideo looks to his side so that I can see the profile of his face. “You’re up early,” he says.

“You knew I’d be,” I reply, nodding at the two mugs of coffee. “Or you wouldn’t have poured me that.”

He glances briefly at me, a small smile on his lips, and takes a sip of his own coffee. He looks pale this morning, dark circles still under his eyes, but other than that, I wouldn’t be able to tell what he’s going through. Every vulnerability that he had exposed to me the night before has been neatly stored away again, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s gone back to not trusting me again. Thinking this was all a huge mistake.

Then I meet his gaze, and in it, I see something open. No, he hasn’t retreated entirely. The real Hideo I’ve been searching for is here.

When I still linger by the door, he nods for me to come join him, handing me my mug of coffee as I reach him. “Taylor expects you here,” he says quietly, his eyes going out to the stirring city.

I nod. My mind returns briefly to Zero. They might be watching us right now from some unknown place on shore. “They want me close to you,” I reply as I put my mug back down on the table.