Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(62)

Meanwhile, he hesitated for the span of a breath, and then stepped close. So close, I felt his chest against my back, his thighs against my backside. Abram pulled my hair to the side and the fall of hot breath against my neck caused the most potent and delectable involuntary shiver of my life.

Holy hadron collider.

I was a solution, he was a solute, and total saturation was on my mind.

“Care for company?” he whispered before I’d recovered, his lips just barely against the shell of my ear.

Holy hadron collider, indeed.

The fragrance of him invaded my good sense and for a moment I lost my breath. My breasts swelled, heavy and needy and hot, my nipples tightening into little beads, pressing against the lace bra. I felt the silk of the shirt everywhere it met my skin. He was close, so close, touching, right there and my eyelids fluttered under the weight of such heavenly sensory overload.

And yet, even under attack, my good sense held firm, buffered by a grim sense of certainty: I didn’t believe Gabby, that Abram would be fine with a fling. I didn’t. He liked me. This was as real for him as it was for me. What was happening between us wasn’t something Lisa would be able to just call off when she took my place.

And that meant I would not be able to live with myself if I allowed him to believe anything between us was a possibility. That would be the same as leading him on, as using him.

My foolish heart, however, thought his idea was great. In fact, it had decided to hatch an escape plan and was currently attempting to beat itself out of my chest. Oh please oh please oh please say yes!

I cleared my throat, concentrating on the grim resolve. “Company?” The question was just above a whisper, because I couldn’t manage much else. Gravity had seemed to reverse, or become centripetal in nature, pulling me in all directions at once.

“I could read you a bedtime story, from your new book.” Knuckles brushed softly against the skin of my neck, the silk of my shirt, and then down my bare arm, raising goose bumps in their path. “Or I could sing you a song.”

Oh no. Do not want! If Gabby was to be believed, I wouldn’t be able to withstand an Abram talent-assault in addition to the rest of what I knew about him. Usually, musicians held no allure for me. But Abram was breaking the mold on all my usuallys.

Grasping that grim resolve, I slid my hand from beneath his on the banister, folded my arms over my chest (to conceal that situation), and turned to face him.

Swallowing the rocks in my throat, I asked, “Are you flirting with me?”

Two dimples, an unhidden smile given freely, gorgeous brown eyes caressing my face.

This is hard. So hard.

“You have to ask?” he said. Flirtatiously.

Despite the disobedient—and therefore destructive—thrill his nonadmission elicited, I cleared my throat and forced myself to say, “Do you think that’s appropriate?”

He blinked, his grin faltering, but only a little. “Appropriate?”

“Yes.” Crowbarring indignation into my voice I didn’t feel, I narrowed my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be the adult here? Ensuring I don’t get into trouble or harm myself? For all intents and purposes, you’re in charge of me, reporting back to my parents about my behavior. They trust you with my well-being. Leo trusts you. Therefore, let me ask you again: do you think flirting with someone you’re in charge of is appropriate?”

Abram flinched back, taking two shuffling steps away as I spoke. At first, his eyebrows lifted, but then they lowered into a severe line over his darkening eyes.

“Are you . . . are you kidding?”

I glared at him, saying nothing, because I didn’t trust myself to speak. This is so hard.

He shook his head, just slightly, as though to clear it, his eyes searching. “Or are you serious?”

“Serious,” I parroted immediately, grasping at the word. Then I swallowed. Because I had to. This is the hardest.

Abram flinched, his lips parting, giving me the impression that a very loud objection was on the tip of his tongue. But then he snapped his mouth shut, staring at me for several seconds, perhaps expecting me to say just kidding! When I continued glaring in silence, he glanced at the ceiling. He then glanced at the wall to his left. His hands came to his hips. He exhaled a light laugh, shaking his head and covering his mouth.

He’d gone back to hiding his smiles, even the bitter ones.

I waited, watching him, feeling . . . horrible. And enormously uneasy. Also, immensely remorseful, wishing I could take the words back, but knowing it was for the best.

By the time his eyes had traveled around the kitchen and returned to mine, they were shuttered, dim, remote, and hit me with a force that felt physical.

“Yes. Absolutely. You’re right.” His tone matched his expression, and the combination made me wonder if my heart had just sustained a serious injury somehow. It would’ve explained why it was suddenly so hard to breathe.

I think it’s hard to breathe because this is hard.

“I, uh, that’s okay.” My voice wavered along with my resolve and I took a step toward him. Apparently, at some point over the last several days, I’d become magnetized to Abram.

Or maybe it’s gravity, he is quite big.

Or maybe it’s one of the four fundamental forces, working on an atomic level: weak, strong, electromagnetic, gravitational.

Or maybe—