Page 17 of Edge of Ruin (The Edge Trilogy #3)
The teakettle began to hiss. I turned it off, reached in the cupboard for a mug and pulled out a plastic travel mug with a sip lid and adhesive plastic on the bottom for sticking to the dashboard of a car.
I stared at it, my jaw clenched before I threw in the tea bag, poured the water, mixed in the honey.
Every damn thing I looked at felt like a slap, a reproach, a dig.
Proof of everything he believed about me.
“Think whatever you like,” I said. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and began to sweep up crumbs. “It makes absolutely no difference to me. I’m just going to keep doing my thing.”
“Yes, I’m sure your intentions are good.”
The detached tone of his voice maddened me. “I can make my business work. I know I can. I have for years.” I grabbed a dishcloth from the sink.
“What you’re proposing is a very different kind of business, but whatever.”
I blocked the bad language that wanted to burst out of my mouth. Lucia had taught me that much, at least. I shook the swept-up crumbs into the garbage and rinsed off my hands at the sink. His sudden presence behind me made me gasp.
“I can’t seem to stop making you angry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re making me crazy.” I closed her eyes. “You say, don’t go, stay safe. Then you insult me and try to drive me away. Then you flirt with me, mess with me, seduce me. What am I supposed to think?”
“I’m sorr?—”
“Shut up.” I twisted around, holding up my finger, wagging it in his face. “Not one more word. You’ll just piss me off worse if your lips are moving, so shut it.”
He drew in a breath, opened his mouth. I put my finger on it, but when I started to lift my hand away, he just trapped it there, pressing it against his hot, soft lips. His breath tickled my palm.
I snatched my hand away and turned my back again. “Don’t. For fuck’s sake, Jack. You’re making it worse.”
The proximity of his body transformed into the pressure of the lightest touch against my back. Then his lips pressed against my nape. He was kissing me. The hell?
The contact was exquisitely soft. A point of warmth, of silent tenderness that spread and grew. Like the sunrise, slowly turning snowy mountains pink.
Oh, no, no, no. This was as bad an idea now as it had ever been, I told myself.
But I felt so soft inside when he touched me. So hungry for the feelings he triggered. For what happened to my body whenever he was close to me.
Like a junkie, craving the poison that was destroying me.
I’d watched that drama play out when I was a kid.
I had never touched drugs in my life, other than the occasional drink from time to time, but look at me now.
Doomed to repeat that nightmarish trap in a different form.
People got sucked into their ancient bullshit all the time, in spite of their convictions, their promises to themselves, their deepest fears, their best intentions.
They were imprinted. There was no escape.
And I couldn’t stop. I could not push his hands away.
He stroked my breast, brushing the tight nipple that poked through my tank top against his palm.
He slid his other hand down my spine, his fingers tracing every bump of my backbone until it hit warm skin under the hem of the top—and then delved, ever so slightly, into the waistband of my gauze skirt.
It was hanging a bit loose these days. Ever since Snake Eyes had started circling around my sisters, the stress had been stealing my appetite and shrinking my ass.
He slowly, tenderly petted my hips. Stroking the roundness.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why torture me like this, if you think so little of me? Why not just kick me out? It would be kinder.”
“I don’t think little of you. On the contrary.
” He kissed my bare shoulder, lips moving in a caress that left shimmering warmth in its slow wake.
“I think you’re amazing. Talented, beautiful, fascinating.
So amazing, I can’t do anything except speak the truth to you.
Even when you don’t want to hear it. That’s respect, Viv. That’s the real thing.”
“Your truth,” I said.
He shrugged. “That’s the only one I’ve got.”
“It’s not the only one there is,” I informed him. “Other people have their own.”
Silence was his response to that. Slowly, he lifted his lips from my shoulder. “I know you’re scared to leave because of what’s happening in your life,” he said. “But I also know that once that situation resolves?—”
“If it ever resolves,” I broke in, my voice bitter.
“Once it is resolved, you’ll pack up your van and drive away. As soon as it really sinks in.”
I twisted around to stare at him. “As soon as what sinks in?”
“What it means to look at the same damn place, day in and day out. Or the same person.” His voice was quiet but utterly convinced. His hand stopped, barely touching the hot glow of excitement between my legs.
“And I can’t convince you any different?” I whispered.
He paused for a moment, motionless, and said, “No.”
My laugh felt more like a sob. “But you still want to fuck me.”
“I still want to be your lover,” he corrected. “And I want it respectfully.” He pressed his hot face against my shoulder, his hands delving deeper, making me squirm. “I ask it ... respectfully.”
I clamped my thighs around his hand, squeezing it. “Oh, yeah? You call that respect?”
“I love to make you feel good,” he offered. “That’s not disrespect.”
I could hardly breathe. I tried to hold his hand motionless with my thighs, but his long, clever fingertips kept delicately caressing me, and it felt ... so ... good.
“I don’t want to get hurt,” I blurted.
“I don’t see any way to avoid that.” His voice was muffled against my hair. “It already hurts. It’ll hurt no matter what we do.”
“And we might as well make the best of it?”
He pulled me against him, tightly. “I’ll make it the best. I promise.”
“One question,” I said. “What happens if I just don’t leave? Is there a statute of limitations on this notion that I’ll run? If I’m still here in five years, ten years, what then? Would you be glad? Disappointed? What?”
He declined to reply, but I could see his answer in his eyes. That door in his mind was closed, locked, barred. Nailed shut.
He would never give himself up to me completely.
And still, I was hungry for what he offered, no matter what was held back. I should be prouder, I should demand more, I knew it. But I wanted every last fragment. Every tiny crumb I could get.
“Yes,” I said. “I want you.”