Say the Word(87)

“Jesus, I forgot how goddamn stubborn you are.” His tone was exasperated, and I’m sure if I’d looked, I’d find his expression matched it. “If this is dangerous, you shouldn’t be doing it alone.”

“Who says I’m doing it alone?” I countered maturely, using avoidance tactics a seven-year-old wouldn’t deign to. I stopped short of sticking out my tongue at him or taunting nah-nah-nah-nah-poo-poo. How totally adult of me.

I suppose it was better than the alternative — better than admitting how terrified I’d become of this whole thing. The doubts were there, circling like wolves, ready to take me down. I was in over my head, and I knew it. I was scared for Vera’s safety and my own. I didn’t know what to do, or where to turn next. But if I let those fears in — if I let them take hold — I’d never be able to finish this investigation or do anything to change those missing girls’ fates.

“Lux, this isn’t a game. If this is what I think it is…” He looked over at me, concern furrowing his brow. “It’s dangerous. These aren’t good people.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I fired back, my eyes flashing as I thought of Vera. “Believe me, I know. But it’s none of your business. We aren’t dating. We aren’t even friends. Until twenty minutes ago, I’m pretty sure we hated one another. So please just leave it alone, Bash.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, if you don’t want my help, I’ll drop it. And you’re right — we aren’t dating and we aren’t friends. But you couldn’t be more wrong about that last part, Lux.”

I felt my eyes widen slightly and my breath caught as I waited for him to explain. He leaned in closer and when he whispered in my ear, his warm breath sent a small tremor through my entire body.

“See, I’m pretty sure you never hated me. In fact, I’m nearly positive of it.” His lips brushed my earlobe and I tried to keep my body completely still, my face clear of the emotions that were raging behind my mask of impassivity. My heart raced faster as he spoke on. “I wasn’t sure at first — I thought I might be imagining it, seeing things that weren’t there because I wished they were true. But now, after watching you for the last week, after sitting here with you, after laughing with you, after seeing the way you react when I do this…”

He pressed his lips against the sensitive hollow beneath my ear, his tongue flicking out to brush the skin in the briefest of caresses, and I couldn’t stop my reaction. It was involuntary — the instinctual arching of my spine, the slight tilting of my head to give his lips better access, the breathy gasp that escaped my mouth.

“Or this…” he breathed, his lips trailing down my neck to the ridge of my collarbone, where he pressed another openmouthed kiss. I whimpered slightly, cursing my wanton reaction internally but powerless to stop it.

“See, Lux, if you hated me, you wouldn’t tremble at the thought of touching my hand to take back your cellphone. You wouldn’t cast your eyes away, as though looking at me caused you acute pain. You wouldn’t smile at my jokes, or breathe in my laughter like you need it to keep on living.”

Damn. Apparently, he’d been paying pretty close attention — which meant I was royally screwed. I took a step away from him and ran my fingers through my hair, before opening my mouth to formulate a protest. I needed to be a minimum of three feet from him if I wanted to be at all convincing or coherent — any closer and it seemed my mouth was more likely to produce a torrent of uncontrollable babble. Unfortunately, as I stepped back, he advanced on me, matching each of my strides and maintaining our close distance.

“You’re crazy,” I muttered.

“Yeah?” He arched an eyebrow at me skeptically.

“Delusional,” I confirmed, retreating another step.

“Mhm.”

“Seriously, this is pathetic,” I lashed out, falling back on hostility to dissuade him. It had worked before. “Look, I get it. You’re rewriting the past to make it less painful for yourself. But that doesn’t mean you’re right.”

“Oh, burn,” Bash mocked, grinning as he advanced on me. “You got me.”

Shit.

Abruptly, I felt my back hit the wall. He’d boxed me into a corner. Before I could squirm away, his arms came up on either side to form a cage around me, and he leaned down so we were face to face.

“I didn’t see it seven years ago. I was too hurt, too mad. But I see it now.”

“What?” I bit out, glaring up at him.

“You lied then. Just like you’re lying now.” He leaned closer so our lips aligned perfectly, separated by the smallest sliver of space. “I still don’t know why. But you know what, Freckles?”

My breathing stopped entirely as the endearment left his lips and he moved fractionally closer, closing the gap between us until our mouths brushed in the hint of a kiss. When he spoke again, I felt his words before I heard them.

“I intend to find out.”

His eyes were solemn, his voice more serious than I’d ever heard it. They weren’t just words — it wasn’t just a statement of curiosity or an expressed desire to solve a seven-year-old mystery.

It was a vow. It was a promise.

He breathed his declaration into my mouth and deep down into my soul, where it fanned the flames of panic and passion raging simultaneously within me. And before I could move, speak, breathe, think — he was gone. Striding to my apartment door and out into the hallway without another word.