Say the Word(96)

His eyes burned into mine, their normal frozen hazel tundra now a molten pool of desire. He pulled me closer roughly, as though any amount of space between us was far too much, and cupped the sides of my face in his palms. My hands slipped from his hair and twined around his neck, our faces hovering so close we shared the same breath.

“You are so f*cking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice laced with awe.

His right hand moved from my cheek and up to the clip in my hair. One deft motion of his fingers had it spilling free, my long blonde locks tumbling down around my body in a cascade of curls that fell to mid-back. Bash’s eyes turned scorching at the sight, and his lips crashed down again on mine. His hands moved to trace the straps of my bra and tank top, pulling them down off my shoulders with twin tugs. His lips followed his fingers’ path — down my neck, across my collarbone, and between the valley of my breasts. I felt my breath catch when he moved up over the swell on my left side, his lips trailing kisses as they went.

And just when I’d reached the point of combustion… When I was ready to tumble to the ground and lose myself completely… When his lips and fingers were about to bring me to my knees…

Everything stopped. Or, more specifically, he stopped.

My eyes opened, my spine straightened from the arch it had unknowingly bent into, my head lifted, and I saw that Bash was immobile — frozen with his burning eyes locked on the ink over my heart. I watched as he mouthed the words, each soundless syllable forming on his lips and contorting them into varying shapes of astonishment.





aut viam inveniam aut faciam


Shit.

I tried to step back, to turn from his sight, but it was no use — not now that he’d seen it. His hands clutched my shoulder blades and he lifted confused eyes to meet mine. There was really only one question for him to ask and though I braced for it, I still didn’t have an answer prepared for him.

“Why?”

I stared at him, frustrated with myself but unable to tell him what he wanted to know. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, Because you were right. Because I love you, you idiot! I’ve always loved you. Can’t you see that?

But I couldn’t.

“Lux, why do you have this?” His thumb skimmed over the tattoo, his eyes never wavering from the inked skin.

I didn’t answer, but my eyes were tingling with the formation of useless tears.

“This isn’t fresh. When did you get this?” His disbelieving stare moved across the script as he read the words over and over. When I remained silent, he finally managed to tear his eyes away and raise them to meet mine. His grip on my shoulders tightened and he bent in close to my face.

“Tell me.” His tone was ardent, his eyes desperate. “Tell me what happened back then. Why did you run? What made you go? I have to know, Lux.”

Walk away, my brain shouted at me. For your own good, and his, walk away. Now.

“I know there are things you think you want to know but, in all honestly you don’t,” I whispered in a small voice, taking a step backward and watching as his hands fell limp to his sides. “You think I’m the victim here, but I’m not. As much as you might wish it, I’m not the damsel in distress in your story, Bash — I’m the villain. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

“Goddammit!” Bash cursed, running one hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “You are f*cking impossible.”

“I have to go.” I turned and headed for the door, picking up my fallen sweatshirt on the way.

“Walk away again, Lux. You’ve had plenty of practice at it,” Bash called after me.

I flinched, but kept walking.

“All that tattoo does is prove that I was right,” he called to my back. “You didn’t leave me back then, not by choice anyway. Something drove you away. And even if you won’t tell me, I’m going to figure it out. I’ll either find a way or make one — thanks for reminding me.”

Freaking fantastic. I was such a monumental f*ck-up.

“So I wouldn’t run too far, Freckles,” Bash added, his voice a blend of frustration and determination. “Because we’re not finished. Not by a f*cking long shot.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven





Now


“Baby, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you — I am, always.” Standing in the doorway, Simon tilted his head sideways and looked me up and down. “But first you pull a vanishing act for the past three days and then you show up on my doorstep unannounced and, it must be said, disheveled in an I-just-had-sex kind of way?”

Damn, he was good.

“Do you have tequila?” I asked in a voice that was pathetically close to begging.

Simon’s brows went up. I was a wine girl — he knew this better than most — so if I was asking for liquor, the shit had really hit the fan. I shoved my way past him through the doorway and headed for the kitchen, passing by a shirtless Nate who was sitting on the sectional drinking a beer. He lifted his glass to me as I barreled by, but I didn’t stop to chat. I was a woman on a mission.

Simon trailed me to the kitchen and made short work of grabbing two shot glasses from the cabinet over the sink. I pulled the bottle of Patrón from its spot on top of the fridge.