“How do I …”
“Jump,” he answers. “I’ll catch you.”
I take a deep breath, and rather than jumping straight away, I move close and lift one leg up to wrap around his hip. He reaches a hand back to grip my thigh, and it ends up half on the fabric of my dress, half on my bare skin. I feel him suck in a breath, and before I can think too much about it, I dig my fingers into his shoulders and jump, lifting my other leg.
He catches me as promised, but my dress has ridden up around my thighs so his other hand curls around bare flesh. I wrap one arm over his shoulder, and down onto his chest so I don’t choke him by wrapping it around his neck. I reach down with the other to pull at my dress and make sure all the necessary parts of me are covered. The fabric slides down a little, covering part of his hand, but he doesn’t bother adjusting his grip so he’s not beneath my dress.
I fold my other arm around him to hold on, and I swear I can feel his heart racing beneath my hand. My chest presses against his hard back, and he doesn’t move for several long moments.
“Wilder?”
He clears his throat and answers, his voice strained, “Just … trying to remember which direction my car is in.”
He starts walking then, and I’m all too aware of the heat that’s burning where our bodies press together. He pauses to shift me higher, gripping my legs a little harder, and the friction of my front against his back makes a moan form low in my throat. I pause long enough to be thankful that he gave me his jacket, otherwise he would feel the way my nipples have tightened into hard little buds because of his closeness. Somehow, putting on a bra didn’t occur to altered me.
“So,” I say, trying to distract myself. “Gwen is your little sister. That makes you how much older than her?”
“She’s five, and I’m twenty-three, so about eighteen.”
“Wow,” I say.
He laughs. “Yeah, we were all a little shocked when she happened.”
“Are you close?”
“Getting there. I wasn’t around much when she was born. I was already out of the house and on my own, but … well, things are different now. I’ve been trying to make an effort to be around more for the last year or so.”
My head hovers over his shoulder, close to his ear and I reply quietly, “I bet she’s glad to have you back. Your parents, too.”
He nods, some of his curls brushing my cheek, but quickly shifts the focus to me. “What about you? Any siblings?”
I hesitate, my usual lie on the tip of my tongue. Normally, I start out from the beginning saying no family. It keeps people from asking unwanted questions. But this time … I don’t know what’s different.
“Sisters. But we’re estranged. I haven’t seen or spoken to them in … well, a long time.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is low and sincere, and it makes me want to lean my head against his shoulder.
I do just that when I reply, “It’s okay. I’m over it.” Have had a long time to get there.
The road we’re on begins to slope upward, and he grips me tighter. I do the same, feeling bad that he has to carry me all this way.
“Well, you know how old I am. What about you?”
I stifle a laugh. Wouldn’t that be something if I told him the truth? He’d drop me off at the hospital for a psych-consult rather than at my apartment.
“Twenty-one.” Perpetually.
I feel him shift, and I lift my head off his shoulder only to find him turned sideways toward me, our lips inches apart.
It takes him a moment to say what’s on his mind, and when he does, his voice is husky. “You sure? You look … young.”
I laugh, and my voice might be a little breathy too. “If you’re worried about me being underage. I promise … I’m not.”
He stops then by a dark SUV and says, “This is me.”
He lets go of one of my legs to fish for his keys, and I tighten my thighs around his waist. He pauses, ducking his head and bracing an arm against the vehicle. After a shuddering breath, he unlocks the car with the press of a button and pulls open the passenger side door. He turns and leans until my backside meets the leather seat. For a moment, I have to resist the urge to squeeze my arms and legs around him, to not let him go, but common sense wins out, and I let them fall slack.
Rather than stepping away completely, he turns to face me, his hips still cradled between my legs. He towers over me, and I can’t help but notice how gorgeous he is. Perfectly angled jaw, high cheekbones, and sinfully full lips. His nose is slightly off-center, but somehow that only makes him more fascinating to me. A gifted sculptor once told me that the brilliance of art lives in its flaws.
He leans down toward me, planting a fist on the seat beside me, and I tilt my chin up. My mind is filled with the mistakes I’ve made and the possible repercussions and the look in the Watcher’s eye, but somehow his closeness cuts through all of that. And I want him to kiss me.
Immortality has a way of muting the world over time, blurring the things that used to matter, and stifling emotions that used to be clear and sharp.
I don’t know why he’s different, but he is. As his mouth hovers closer to mine, it’s everything else that blurs, not him. When I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips, my eyes flutter closed, and his groan is the only clue I get before I feel his body move away from mine, and the cool November air takes his place.
I open my eyes, and he stands a few feet back, turned slightly away. His hand rubs at the back of his neck, and his chest rises and falls on a slow, steady breath. He grips the top of my door and waits for me to shift my legs inside. I do, and the door closes with a thud before he disappears behind the SUV.