Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(98)

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” I really needed him when Dirk and Ian tried to pin Tommy’s stabbing on me, and yet I was the first one that my dad threw into the back of his cop car.

I’m not bringing that story up tonight, though. That’s one for another day.

Alex pulls the plaid wool blanket up around her body. “You’re lucky you have a father like that. It’s better than indifference. Or nonexistence. Maybe if my father was in my life, I wouldn’t have ended up with a man like Viktor.”

“Or maybe your father was a scumbag like Viktor, and you were better off not knowing him,” I interject, though I know that’s not her point.

“Maybe,” she concedes. “Well, I for one am looking forward to getting to know your parents. I like them a lot already. They’re both so calm. I want to surround myself with calm people. Not volatile ones, like Viktor.”

“Here.” I sandwich the melted marshmallow between the chocolate and the graham crackers. “Stop talking about my parents and eat this. Welcome to Western culture.”

I feed her a bite. A tiny, appreciative moan escapes her and, when she licks the melted chocolate off her lip, my heart starts racing. I haven’t so much as touched her leg in weeks.

I’m dying to be with her again.

“Before I forget . . .” She rolls to her left and grabs the strap of her tan messenger bag. “Here’s the money I saved. We should leave this here with my things.” We filled my trunk with bags of clothes and basics she wanted to bring with her—towels, bedding, some things to cook with that she said would only collect dust if left with Viktor.

I test the bag’s weight. It’s heavy. “You want to leave this much money in here?”

She shrugs. “I figured it’s safer here than in Portland.”

I smile. “Yeah. Probably.” This is pretty much the safest place around.

Her bright eyes roam the space. “This little attic has so much potential. I was thinking we could . . .”

I just nod as she goes on about curtains and tables and all the things she wants to do to the small space, watching her lips move.

“The crib can go over in that corner. We’ll have to get rid of that chair, but I want to anyway. It’s a bit old. Jesse? Why are you staring at me like that? Are you listening to me?”

“Not really. You can do whatever the hell you want with this place.”

A playful smile curls her lips. “Oh, good! Because I was thinking that there’s not a lot of space, so we’ll need to convert the garage downstairs into more living—”

I steal a deep kiss. “You can do whatever the hell you want with this place, but the garage is off-limits. God knows I’ll need it with a screaming baby in here,” I correct, and then kiss her again, tasting the chocolate and marshmallow residue.

She breaks away and bites her bottom lip with worry. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you don’t have to. You can still back out.”

I glare at her. “Back out?” She just doesn’t get it. I’m not ready to say it out loud yet, but there’s no doubt about it. The fact that I can’t wait for next weekend, and I know that the next two months will be the longest of my life, proves it.

I’m in love with Alex.

“I just . . . I know what it’s like to feel trapped. It’s utterly suffocating. I don’t ever want you to feel like that.”

In all honesty, I’ve been terrified these past two weeks. It has nothing to do with worrying that I don’t want this. I’m terrified that I can’t be what she needs me to be.

But I’ll never admit that to her. She needs me to be strong, and I want to be strong for her.

As strong as she is.

“Is it just my hormones or is it boiling in here?” she suddenly exclaims, unzipping her sweatshirt and peeling it off to reveal a plain, long-sleeved shirt underneath. She may not be showing yet, but her boobs are getting bigger. If Viktor stopped to really look at his wife over the past few weeks, he would have noticed.

“No, it’s boiling. I built the fire nice and hot. And opened all the vents.”

“God, why?” She kicks off the blanket with a scowl of confusion.

I shrug. “Best way to get a girl to strip.”

She stops to stare at me, probably to figure out if I’m being honest. And then she falls back into the pillows, laughing. That deep, infectious sound that makes me dive into her mouth.

She doesn’t hesitate, tangling her tongue with mine to give me another sweet taste of chocolate.

I can’t wait anymore, sliding her shirt up and over her head.

“Gentle. They’re sore.”

I have her bra off in a matter of seconds. I’m just about to show her how gentle I can be with my mouth when a knock sounds on the door at the bottom of the stairs, followed by my mom’s holler of “Hello?”

I roll onto my back with a groan. “Stay right here.”

My mom’s waiting in the garage, her arms loaded with one of the winter duvets. “I don’t want you and Alex to get cold overnight.”

I stifle my smirk. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her eager eyes flicker up the stairs. “Where’d you meet her?”

Should I be honest? “On the side of the road. I fixed her tire and she kissed me.”