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“I could show you how to use them,” I hear myself say.

Her forehead wrinkles as if she’s trying to figure out if I actually just said that.

“If you want,” I add, like that soft little clause is going to make any of this better.

I resist the urge to laugh like a crazed maniac. What the fuck am I doing?

She stares at me for a beat longer. Then she whispers, “Yes.”

Her answer short-circuits something in my brain.

I set my mug down and cross the space between us. I reach for her wrist, and the second my fingers wrap around it, I know I’m gone.

I’m running on heat and instinct and the kind of bone-deep pull I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.

I lead her back down the hall like a man possessed, and I know I should be worried about what happens next.

But I’m not.

Whatever it is I’m getting myself into…I don’t think I’ll be able to get myself back out.

Chapter 9

Ani

Idon’t know what I thought would happen when I said yes. Maybe the floor would open and I’d be dropped into the pit of my own recklessness. Or, I don’t know, that he’d laugh in my face and tell me he was just kidding.

But instead, he just moves. Grabs my wrist and starts walking.

My heart pounds so hard in my chest. Can he hear it? He must.

I follow him without a word, conscious of the silence in the house. Jonah and Boone must be out. Or maybe they’re here and we’re pretending they’re not.

My thoughts are all tangled—threaded with panic and excitement. Is this really happening?

My hands are sweating, and I wish I had thought to brush my hair or change my shirt or…anything. I’m not ready. But I also don’t want to stop.

This is not who I am.

Except, what if it is?

At the door to my room, he pauses. He doesn’t let go of my wrist, but I have the sinking feeling that he’s going to put a stop to this before it’s even begun. The thought sours in my stomach.He glances over his shoulder, those bright eyes locking on mine, and I freeze.

“We don’t have to,” he says softly. “Any part of it. You say stop and we stop.”

I nod. I mean to answer aloud, but my throat is tight. This feels like too much. But not in the way that scares me. It’s the opposite at this point.

The door shuts behind us with a quiet click and I lock it. My heart feels too big for my chest.

I’m suddenly very aware of the bed. The pile of folded clothes on the chair. The little stack of books I pillaged from around the house yesterday. And the bag of toys—the one I half-shoved under the bed after sorting through everything he gave me.

This was a mistake.

But I don’t say that. I just stand there, waiting for him to do something. Waiting to see if this is the moment I dissolve into pieces.

He lets go of my hand and gestures for me to sit.

“Okay?” he asks.