Page 48 of Save Me (Maxton Hall #1)

I jump up abruptly and leave the room without another word.

I run down the hall and make it to the stairs before I hear equally hasty footsteps behind me.

I take the steps two at a time until I get to the top and turn down the landing.

James is right behind me. He overtakes me and stands in my way, so that I have to stop too.

“That’s not true,” he repeats breathlessly.

His cheeks are red, his hair’s a mess. Whenever I see him, I feel like my body is tied to his in some irrational way.

The need to touch him grows the closer he comes, regardless of how livid I am with him.

This is impossible. How can I still want him when he hurts me this badly?

“What isn’t true?” I can barely get the words out for all the pent-up emotion inside me.

I’m totally unprepared for the pain in his eyes. “That you’re not good enough for me.”

For a moment, I stare at him in confusion. Then I clench my fists, so hard that my nails dig into my skin.

“Fucking hell,” I breathe.

He takes another step toward me. “Ruby—”

“No!” I interrupt him. “You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to break up with me and humiliate me in front of all your friends and then just stroke my wrist and whisper ‘good luck’ to me. You showed me more than clearly that you don’t want me in your oh-so-perfect life.”

“That wasn’t…I…”

First he comes running after me, and now he can’t even get out a coherent sentence. I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “That wasn’t you?” My voice is dripping with mockery.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. I’m so sorry, Ruby. But I…just can’t. It’s impossible.”

I throw my arms up in the air. “So why the fuck are you here then? Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because I…” He breaks off again. He contracts his eyebrows as if he doesn’t know the answer to that himself. He opens his mouth and shuts it again. It looks like he’s trying to stop himself saying the words on the tip of his tongue.

“You don’t know what you want from me. You don’t know what you want from life. I don’t think you know a damn thing.”

His cheeks redden even more. Now his stance is the mirror image of mine—stiff shoulders, clenched fists. I’ve never seen him like this. He takes a furious step toward me, and I feel the heat radiating off him.

“I know exactly what I want.” The stutter has vanished, and he suddenly sounds composed.

“So why not take it then?”

“Because what I want has never had anything to do with anything.”

The last remnants of my self-control have been hanging by a silken thread, and his words now cut through it.

“For me it has! For me, what you want has always had everything to do with it!” I yell, shoving his chest with both hands.

James reacts lightning fast, grabbing my wrists. He holds my hands firmly to his ribs.

We’re breathing. Fast and jerky. I can feel his pounding heartbeat beneath my fingers. It’s beating so fast. Because of me. Because of what there is between us. The thing that’s been growing between us for months now.

We move at the same time. James pulls me to him, and I leap toward him.

Our mouths meet. Furiously, I shove my hands into his hair, pull at it, and he grabs my hips, digs his fingers into my skin.

I bite his bottom lip because I’m so angry.

He groans deeply and slips a hand down to my bum.

His other hand runs up my spine to the nape of my neck.

All the weeks I’ve spent ignoring him with all my might, fighting against my own feelings, break over me like a tornado.

Our kiss is a continuation of our row, a fight that transforms the rage inside me into something else and drags a sound from me that I’ve never made in my life before. A despairing groan that sounds almost like a sob. I run my tongue over his lower lip and enjoy the taste of him.

The next moment, James pulls me up and kisses me deeply and intently.

Now his kiss suddenly feels like an apology.

I can tell from his shaking fingers how long he’s been wanting to do that and what an effort it must have been for him to hold himself back.

He kisses me like he wants to drown in me; it’s a mixture of desire, despair, hatred, and the full gamut of emotion in between, and it makes me mad , but at the same time, I haven’t felt this alive in weeks.

I don’t understand how this is possible.

I don’t understand how a person you actually want to hate can do this to you.

James grabs me by the waist, picks me up, and stumbles down the corridor with me in his arms, without our lips breaking contact even once.

My back slams into the door to James’s room, and I gasp sharply.

Furiously, I scratch his neck. James groans into my mouth and presses against me; his firm body is the only thing stopping me from falling to the floor.

His hand runs from my waist to my thigh, then moves away, and I hear the clink of keys.

The next moment, he’s holding me tighter again, and the door opens behind me.

James carries me over the threshold and kicks it shut.

I only vaguely notice the bang. Nothing seems to matter anymore; in this moment there is only him and me and the feelings we’re letting carry us.

This time, nobody is going to interrupt us.

Nobody is going to ruin the thing between us.

Only the two of us have any power over what’s going to happen next.

My movements are gentler now but no less passionate. In a few steps, we’re by the bed, and James lets himself fall onto it. He presses an arm behind my back to soften the impact and, the next moment, squeezes up against me, so perfectly that I groan and wrap my legs around his hips.

His mouth roams tenderly over every inch of my face.

He kisses my cheeks and the corners of my lips.

The tip of my nose. His lips graze my jaw.

I hold tight to his shoulders and shut my eyes.

Stars burst behind my eyelids as he sucks on my throat and presses his lips against the place where my pulse always beats faster.

“Ruby…” He whispers my name exactly the way he did that night, over a month ago, when we kissed on the school cellar stairs.

The memory suddenly washes violently over me, bringing my despair and pain with it.

I can’t hold the burning behind my eyes back any longer.

Hot tears form in my eyes and run down my face.

James freezes. He leans away from me a little and watches me from under heavy eyelids. With his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, he looks like he’s on drugs. He tenderly strokes my cheeks and keeps on whispering my name.

I cover my face with an arm so that he can’t see my tears, but James takes my hand and lifts it carefully.

He interlinks our fingers and brings our hands down to the bed, beside my head.

With his other hand, he brushes a stray strand of hair off my forehead.

Then he slowly runs his index finger over the sensitive skin beneath my eyes to wipe my cheeks dry.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my temple, pressing a kiss onto my hairline.

He doesn’t stop caressing my face. It’s like his arms have formed a protected space, just for the two of us.

When I look up, I see how swollen his bottom lip is.

You can clearly see where I bit it, and I start to feel guilty.

Gently, I stroke the reddened skin, and James shuts his eyes.

I touch his jaw, run my finger over his frowning eyebrows, and trace the individual freckles on his cheeks.

Now, in winter, they’re so pale that you can only see them from close-up.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, and it sounds as though his voice might break any second.

“That’s not enough for me,” I reply, equally quietly.

He leans forward and presses his hot brow against mine. “Me either.”

For a long time, we hold that position. His weight feels so good on me, and I wrap my arms around his back, dig my fingers into his shirt, and just hold him tight. I can feel his heartbeat, as fast and irregular as my own, and enjoy the all-encompassing feeling of being this close to him.

But this doesn’t change everything that’s happened between us. The things he yelled at me, and the way he treated me. I can’t forget that. Not if I want more from him than a whispered apology. I want an explanation, and I think he owes me one.

“We can’t go on like this, James.”

He smiles. The corners of his lips only twitch slightly, but I see it very clearly. And the tension in his body is easing too. The furrows on his brow smooth, and everything about him seems to soften.

“What is there to smile about?”

He pulls back a little and looks at me. His expression is hopeful. “It’s so long since you said my name. It feels good.”

Shaking my head, I take his face in my hand, lean forward, and kiss him carefully.

It feels like a dream just to be able to do this when I was so sure I’d never have the opportunity again.

His mouth fits mine perfectly. It feels right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

James’s hand strays from my face over my neck and shoulders.

A hot tingle runs down my spine as he strokes my side and then grasps my waist. His body trembles above me.

I want to carry on from exactly where we left off just now, but I can’t do that without knowing exactly where we stand.

James seems to sense that and pulls away from me carefully. “By the lacrosse field…I told you that you can’t lose a thing that doesn’t belong to you.”

The memory of his words stabs me. I want to look away, but I can’t. Too many of the emotions I’m feeling at this moment are reflected in James’s eyes.

“That was a lie. I’ve belonged to you since you threw my money back in my face, Ruby Bell.”