Page 19

And what? There’s no pretending this didn’t happen. You’re not even that drunk. You’re buzzed, at best.

“I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You kissed me too.”

The car swerves as he tears over to the side of the road.

We’re in the industrial section where Lynette told me that Bullet’s new range is.

All I can see are the dark outlines of huge buildings and none of them look like a range.

Maybe we’re not in the right area. “You grabbed my cock,” he hisses, ramming the car into park.

He doesn’t shut it off. Probably because it’s hard to do with a damn screwdriver.

Somewhere, we reached a precipice, some kind of edge, and I’ve been pushed past it. It’s the only reason I can use to explain why I turn to him and continue to drive stakes under his skin, agitating both of us. “You want to kiss me again.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Neither of us know what to do with that.

I inhale too harshly and let it out in a hiccup. I blame the heat spreading up my neck and burning in my cheeks on the very loud belch sound. How enchanting.

His hands clutch the wheel, strangling the shit out of it before they loosen and grasp it again.

He won’t look at me. I stare openly at him, a parade of images slamming into the backs of my eyes.

I want to bruise his lips, kiss him so hard that it hurts us both, then do whatever it takes to ease the pain into pleasure.

I want to strip him out of his black t-shirt and jeans, kiss and taste every scar, every inch of his skin, drink in his essence and drown in him.

I want to rub myself against him until his scent stays with me, clinging to me like it did long after he took his shirt back.

I want to spend hours gazing at him, memorizing his body, seeing him not just as an artist, but as a woman .

I felt the outline of his cock back there.

I squirm in the seat right now as I imagine what that hard, long thickness would feel like inside of me.

If there’s one thing alcohol is good for, it’s lowering inhibitions and kicking up the libido.

This whole thing is one red flag and do I care right now?

I guess that I do, but not the way I should.

“Is this where you give me the mistake lecture?” I grunt, knowing that’s going to be a for sure yes.

“No.” I whip my head over to stare at him. His face isn’t just impenetrable. It’s downright stone, but even stone can be carved. It can be warmed. It can be brought to life. It can also crack. “But it can’t happen again.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that yes as in no, or yes as in yes?”

“Can I still paint you?”

In the dim lighting, I can still see just how white his knuckles are as he gives that poor wheel the chokehold of its life. “Is that a metaphor for something else?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

I trace a patch on my jeans. I haven’t been able to paint anything on canvas for so long, but after that visit a few nights ago, I had a burst of creativity. I went out and thrifted the next morning, finding the perfect pair to spruce up. “What’s happening to us? I’m so lost.”

Fuck. That’s the last thing I should have said.

“Yeah. I- yeah.”

It’s easier if I don’t look at him, but staring at the dark hulking monoliths just beyond the windows doesn’t stem the flow of shit I shouldn’t be blurting. “The only time I haven’t felt lost since Marcus died is right now.”

“That’s the whiskey talking.” He’s sure because it’s easier to be sure. It’s much, much easier to blame the booze. I can’t let him do that.

“It’s not. My coordination sucks, but my mind is functional. Can you… can you maybe… it was just strong feelings. They don’t have to be the good kind to engender an appetite.”

“That sounds like a college lecture,” he snorts, pretending to be lost, but I know he gets it.

“More like an online reel for people with a short attention span.”

Movement in the car catches my eye and I whip my head around, ready on instinct to defend myself, my muscles hardening and my hand shooting up to block a blow.

He visibly recoils, slamming his hand back on the wheel. He was just going to reach out. Maybe reassure me. He probably would have stopped himself before he ever touched me.

My heart plummets at the wounded expression he can’t keep from flitting briefly over his face. He waits a moment then switches on the interior light above us. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Define okay.”

“I don’t know. It’s a stupid word. It’s a stupid question.”

“Should I give the corresponding stupid answer?”

That flicker of his lips at the corner is enough to send my insides into a complete clenched up tailspin of desire. “I want an honest answer.”

Shit. Well, I guess here we go. “I don’t know. How does anyone know what will happen in the future? Do I trust you to take care of us? What choice do I have? But at the same time, I guess I kind of… do.”

He’s quiet and once the words start coming, I can’t just cut them off.

“Am I sorry I took a whole bunch of shit out on you and was mean? I am. I couldn’t tell you that before and I’m sorry for that too. I don’t hate you. I thought I might, but I don’t. I don’t even hate this place as much as I thought I should.”

“Mmm.” I don’t know what that means and he’s angled away from me, staring out ahead of the car.

The whiskey lowers all the walls and drops the filters that would normally keep me somewhat safe.

“Will it ever be okay that Marcus is gone and that I didn’t get to say goodbye?

That I’ll never see him again? I owe him so fucking much and that’s always going to kill me.

I can’t change it, and I have no idea how to get through it.

So… you’re right. I don’t know much of anything at all and I’m fucking sorry. ”

Dravin’s still staring straight ahead and that’s probably the only thing that keeps me from dying of embarrassment. Or maybe it’s to hide the fact that throughout it all, he tried to slap that stone facade back into place and never quite achieved it.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says so quietly that I can barely make out the words.

“I do. I want to.”

Without warning, he drops his head into his hands and groans. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“For being a shitty guardian.”

My throat closes up. “You’re not really.”

“For kissing you.”

It’s doubly closed now, and my stomach starts spinning again. There’s nothing worse than having someone rock your entire world and then tell you that they regret it. “Please don’t apologize for that.”

“For not knowing the future either.”

“You’re not a clairvoyant.”

“No.” His hands fall away. He studies them without blinking, like they hold some kind of answer that he’s just not seeing. “No, I’m not. We wouldn’t be here now if I was.”

My nails bite into my jeans so hard that soft denim fibers work their way up underneath of them. “It could be worse. I mean, technically.” I wince. “I wish that it wasn’t, but we can’t change any of it.”

“Yeah.” His head flops back against the headrest. “It doesn’t stop me from wishing either.

” A line appears between his brows, furrowing so deep that it practically cuts his skin.

I have to curl my fingers harder into my thighs to stop myself from reaching over.

The air shifts between us, crackling with energy, but not the same sexual tension that was there just a few minutes ago.

It’s something different now. Something deeper and darker, like an endless abyss.

I’m falling.

He’s falling too.

Who’s there to catch us if we can’t open our arms for each other to stop that fall or brace for impact?

“Do you truly want me to find those men and make sure they’re dead?”

I said that, callous enough that I didn’t even think for a second what it would cost him. I didn’t think because I didn’t mean it. It was just an expulsion of anger.

It was full of truth, and yes, I do wish those bastards dead. It would be a bloody form of closure, but it would never be an end to my own pain. There’s no end to that, even if one day the edge of it might dull after all the repeated strikes against me.

I shake my head, but he’s not looking. I know he can sense the movement anyway. His face stays locked forward. “Burdening yourself isn’t going to bring Marcus back. Justice and vengeance won’t. Nothing will. The only thing it can do is make us safe.”

“Living a free life, without shadows and having to constantly look over your shoulder isn’t nothing, Kael.”

He’s right, but the cost of his soul isn’t worth it. How could I have been so callous and flippant? Has he been thinking of doing just that? Pouring over and over it until he’s suffocated by the truth of an injury I never should have inflicted on him?

“I- if I… No. I definitely implied that you weren’t worthy of love.

That it was okay for you just to throw your life away.

Do I wish that I was some kind of superhero that could just magically poof all those fuckers out of existence, slowly, painfully, and with an awfulness previously unimagined?

Yes. I do. But that’s not real . I don’t want you to leave here.

I definitely don’t want you to go to LA and do something stupid.

Even if you’d come out of it alive, you wouldn’t . ”

I reach for him, aiming for his arm, but he turns and sees it coming. He fumbles with the door behind him.

“Dravin?”

It bursts open and he tumbles out with zero grace.

“I just need a minute. A walk. Stay in the car.”

“Where are you going?” I wrench my seatbelt off, panicked that he’ll just leave me here. That he’ll walk away from me and all of this.

Logically, I know he’s not going to do that, but the whiskey is doing things to my brain that have zero interest in being rational.

“Stay there.” He points a hard finger at me.

“No!” I fling open my door and stumble out. Literally, because the car is low and my balance is still slightly off, and these fucking boots are murder.