Page 39 of Revere

He chuckles, his gaze sweeping over me. “I have no doubt you can survive anything, Patience Lancaster. It’s the world that won’t survive you.”

My throat clenches. My tongue swells. “You can’t say things like that.”

“The truth?”

“I—” I shake my head, breaking stares because I can’t think with him looking at me like this. “You make it sound like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“You’re the first to think so then. Most people find me difficult.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” He tilts my chin up. “Don’t dull yourself because others can’t handle you.”

“Can you handle me?”

Jacob hums, grazing his thumb over my chin. “Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you going to touch me?” My tone is desperate.

And when he grins, I realize how he’s flipped this around. How he mixes up my mind. How this turned from a question to me begging for his touch. Because I need it.

I need him.

“Because what I can handle isn’t what’s in question here, Patience. It’s what you can. And trust me, you aren’t ready for what I want to do to you. Not until you decide to let me in. And when you do, trust me, you won’t be talking back and rolling your eyes. You won’t even have the fight in you to glare at me. What I’m going to do to you requires trust, and we already established you don’t trust me yet.”

“I’m surprised you care whether I trust you or not.” My voice turns to a mumble. “That you care what I’m ready for.”

His smile drops. “Why?”

The anger in that single word has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. The brightness of his eyes has dimmed.

I swallow hard, but my throat is sandpaper. “No reason.”

“I doubt that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shove my chin up, pushing those thoughts aside. “I’m here now. Shouldn’t you be more focused on that?”

His gaze drops to my legs spread wide for him as he stands between them before he lifts it to meet mine again. “I’m focused on everything when it comes to you.”

Something about the hardness of his stare tells me that’s the truth. That it runs deeper than he’s saying. That I might not be the only one losing control in this moment.

And I’m not ready to face what that might mean, especially if he may not feel the same. So I shake that thought and scoot forward on the desk, taking action instead.

The movement brings us closer together. The insides of my thighs brush the outside of his, and even through my jeans, I feel the friction. The static. This electricity that sparks and flickers with every touch.

I’ve never been drawn to another person. From a young age, I learned the dangers of trusting anyone with my body—much less my heart. But I can’t get enough of Jacob.

“You say you’re focused on me.” I press my lips together.

“I am.”

“Then prove it.”

It takes all my bravery to force the words out. To look him in his green eyes as I say them. To not flinch or pull away. To choose myself for once and not shy away from the fact that he is what I need, no matter how wrong it is.

Lines are being crossed. I’m dancing my way over them, and I couldn’t care less for the first time in my life.

“Help me let go, Jacob.” I scoot forward again.