‘I would never, ever hurt you,’ he promises, his hand gently cupping the back of my neck, fingers spreading across my skin. His touch sends a shot of tingles across my flesh and causes me to shiver as he guides me toward his lips. But I’m already leaning in, an invisible current pulling me toward him, like two magnets about to collide. When we do crash into one another, it’s dangerously intoxicating, stealing the air from my lungs, sending my heart slamming into my chest. I’m already falling again to that place where I feel helpless, yet safe. Emotions press their way to the surface, this time too strong to ignore. It hits me like lightning, an electric current surging through my body, overwhelming heat that both brings me alive and kills me at the same time.
I think it’s then that I know what I’m feeling. The thing I’ve been trying to avoid for days now, and I’m both terrified out of my mind and alarmingly at peace.
Our kiss is slower than normal, but equally if not more intense. Every sensual sweep of his tongue, soft nibble of his teeth, it’s like he’s memorizing my lips. His hands are exploring my body, leaving blazing trails of heat wherever they brush, my body so warm I swear I’m on fire. And I’m moaning, God am I moaning, as the stuff I’ve felt so confused about burns under my skin and pours out through my lips as I devour him with my kisses. I just want to keep doing this forever, never move again, but eventually Luke breaks the connection, putting a sliver of space between our lips.
I whimper a protest and he crooks a pleased smile. ‘I promise will pick this up later. I promise,’ he says. ‘But I think we need to get you home.’
I nod, my swollen lips unable to form words. So I turn and face forward in my seat, buckling my seatbelt, my mind turning right back on the moment we pull away from the stadium. Only this time it’s thinking about something entirely different, the realization I had while we were kissing. I’m not sure I want to accept it, but honestly it might not be about what I want anymore. Like Greyson says, when it happens it just sort of happens out of nowhere. There is no control, no ignoring, no putting on fake smiles to get around it. Nope, this is out of my control, no matter how much it terrifies me.
Love.
Love.
Love.
I think I might be in love with Luke.
Chapter 24
Luke
I was pretty overwhelmed before the game, thinking about everyone there watching me. Yeah, I’m used to shitloads of people watching me play, but this was different. My father and Trevor were there.
And Violet.
She was making me the most nervous and it took me forever to figure out why. Because someone I love was going to be there. Once I got past the mind-boggling moment though, I was pretty okay with it. Excited, even. I played an awesome game too, so that made my mood better. Then the thing with Preston happened and I’m trying not to get too worked up about it, but if they manage to catch him, then there would be this huge opening for Violet and I to have a semi-normal life, maybe.
And really, that’s all I want right now. Just her and me, and the normalcy that we’ve been having for the last few weeks. I’ve never had that before and now that I’ve gotten a taste for it, I want it more than anything.
Once I get Violet home, I call my dad and tell him we can’t make it to dinner. When I explain to him why, he suggests that they can bring over a pizza and we can eat at my place. Seth and Greyson are out for the night so we have the place to ourselves and I agree to my dad’s offer. He tells me they’ll be there in about an hour or so and we hang up. I grab two sodas from the fridge then head over to Violet.
She’s biting on her fingernails, a habit she’s developed over the last couple of weeks whenever she gets nervous. She has the television on, some infomercial playing, so it’s pretty clear she’s not paying attention to it.
‘What’s bothering you?’ I set the sodas down on the coffee table, sit down beside her on the sofa, and brush her hair off her shoulder. She’s wearing a black tank top and her hair’s up, so I can see her tattoos peeking out on her neck. ‘Is it Preston?’
‘What?’ She blinks at me, completely out of it.
I take her hand and move it away from her mouth so she can no longer bite her nails. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
Her body stiffens. ‘What is?’
‘The thing with Preston.’ I sketch my finger along the lines of her star tattoos. ‘He can’t hide forever.’
‘Oh.’ Her body unstiffens and she fixes her attention on the television. ‘That’s not what I’m worried about.’
‘Then what are you worried about?’ My hand moves from neck down to her shoulder, then to her side. I urge her to turn and look at me instead of staring at the television, but she fights it, shaking her head.
‘I can’t yet,’ she says quietly.
‘Can’t what?’
‘Talk to you just yet.’
That one stings a little. ‘Okay … we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.’
She nods her head up and down way too swiftly. There’s a pause where she fights to breath then suddenly she’s turning toward me, kissing me in desperation. It’s not the first time she’s done this, used me to distract herself from whatever’s she’s battling internally, but it’s harder to deal with after the other night, when we kissed, danced and had sex just for us, nothing else. I feel like we’re stepping backwards and I don’t want that. I want to keep going forward, away from the person I used to be and that shitty life I used to live, full of booze, gambling and meaningless sex.
I’m fighting between what’s right and wrong, while continuing to kiss her, when she suddenly pulls away, gasping for air. I open my mouth to ask her to please for the love of God explain to me what’s going on in that head of hers but then she starts to cry.
‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ she says, blinking through a veil of tears as she looks everywhere but at me. ‘I don’t think I can do this anymore.’
My heart plummets inside my chest, my lips still hovering over hers, my hands on her waist. ‘Do what anymore?’ I don’t want the answer, don’t want to hear what follows my question, don’t want to lose her.
‘Fight it.’ Tears are still flowing from her eyes, but I think she’s stopped crying. She sucks in several breaths and when she looks at me, her eyes are clearer than I anticipated. She’s scared shitless – that’s clear – but it’s like she’s stopped fighting the fear, giving into it instead.