“Get off me!” I need help, but I’m shit-out-of-luck. The music is so loud and it even muffles the noise in the room. “Please!”
He forces my arms together and holds them in one of his very large hands. “Not until you tell me why you’re flipping out.”
“Because physical contact freaks me out,” I lie, arching my body into his in a lame attempt to force him off me.
He moves his body upward out of my reach, but still keeps a hand on my arms. “I can tell when you’re lying by the way you’re biting your lip.” He lets his weight descend back toward me. “Just like I can tell when you’re pissed off by the way your jaw tenses.” His body is back on me and I lay immobile beneath him as he continues with his voice softer. “Just like I can tell when I’m embarrassing you because your cheeks turn pink.” His face lowers towards mine and I notice for the first time that he has a faint scar just below his eye. His breath is hot against my ear and neck; my eyes uncontrollably shut as he whispers, “Or how I can tell when you’re getting turned on by the way you get distracted and how your body shudders.”
The insinuation of his words encloses around me and my body shudders, just like he’s accused. Something snaps inside me. I break. Splinter apart. Pieces are now missing. I raise my head and surprise him as I touch my lips against his. I push past the forceful amount of electricity slashing through me and instead of kissing him, I suck his bottom lip into my mouth.
Then I bite down hard.
I’m not even sure what the point is. Whether I’m pissed off or so turned on that I’ve lost the capability to rationalize my actions. I rest my head back on the mattress and wait for him to hop off and call me a freak.
Instead, he stares at me as his tongue slips out from his mouth and wets his lips. “Fuck, you drew blood.”
Before I can even begin to be embarrassed, he lets out a deep growl and seconds later his lips come down on mine. Holy fucking hell. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s all gone; the worry, the sadness, the emptiness. I can barely breathe as his tongue slips inside my mouth and entangles with mine. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I go with it and allow his tongue to search my mouth. My skin feels like it’s melting, but in a good way. As I lift my hips up, pressing our bodies together, the heat spirals out of control. I want to be closer—need to be closer—but it doesn’t seem possible, since he’s lying on top of me.
His hand is still holding my arms and he tightens his grip as his other hand slides down my body to my hip. He digs his fingers into my skin as he moves his legs so that mine are free. Seconds later, I have them fastened in a vice-grip around his waist. His body tenses and his breath catches in his throat. Drawing away, he looks into my eyes and I think he’s going to say something insulting, but then he lets out another low growl that sends vibrations all over my skin and he crushes his lips into mine again. The innocent kiss suddenly turns reckless as his hand slips underneath my shirt and he cups my breast. I’ve never felt this kind of ecstasy before. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. Complete. I finally understand what the big deal is.
“I’ve wanted this for forever,” he murmurs, which doesn’t make much sense.
But I don’t really care at the moment
I writhe my hips up against him, feeling his hardness between my legs. My head becomes foggier as he kisses and feels me all over. I want to rip his shirt off, feel his skin and feel the passion, the spark, the connection. As every ounce of my self-control withers, I wiggle my hands out of his. Maneuvering them between us, I begin to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. When I reach the last one, he catches my hand and stops me.
He removes his lips from mine, props up on his arm and peers down at me. His lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over like he barely understands what is going on. “We should slow down,” he pants, looking conflicted.
I instantly frown. “Why?”
Looking torn, he glances down at my hand trapped in his and then back at me. “Because we should.” He loosens his grip and frees my hand. Like a magnet, my fingers move for the last button and I flick it undone.
As my fingers graze his stomach, his lips seal against mine. His tongue urges my mouth apart and when it enters mine, the warmth nearly swallows me. Pressing my hands flat onto his stomach, I feel the rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin.
I begin writhing my hips against his again, letting go as he moves his lips away from my mouth and start trailing kissing down my neck. Each one is soft, but full of desire. I want more—need more. I’m confused by my thoughts and what my body wants. It’s like I’ve been starving for years, nearly dying of hunger, and his kisses are finally satisfying the ever-growing starvation.
As he approaches my collarbone and takes a nip at my skin, I delve my fingers into his shoulder blades. With one last buck of my hips, something explodes inside me and, for a second, I’m free from the world I’ve never felt I belonged in. There is no pain, no loneliness, no fear. Everything I’m feeling at the moment is real.
Apparently, the light bulb above our heads has the same idea. It flickers and then glass shatters everywhere. I wince as sharp, hot fragments of glass land on my skin.
I freeze. Alex freezes. Time seems to freeze. Alex shifts his weight and the next thing I know he’s climbing off me, leaving me in the dark surrounded by hot glass that is sharper than the mortification I feel at the moment.
He flips a lamp on, but I don’t dare look at him as I sit up, plucking the pieces of glass off me. He walks around in front of me and begins picking glass out of my hair without saying a word. The silence says more than words ever could.
“So that was…” He drops a piece of glass onto the floor and then runs his hand down his arm, brushing some off his sleeve. “Interesting.”
I angle my neck back to look up at him. His hair is a mess, his lips puffy, and he looks perplexed. And lost. And, well, a little horrified. I feel suddenly ashamed. I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t quite understand it.
“We should probably go.” His eyes travel above my head to the ceiling.
I tip my head back, tracking his gaze to the broken light fixture that is making a low buzzing noise. “How do you think it happened?”
He shrugs, flicking a piece of glass off his sleeve. “Faulty wiring.”
“Does that stuff cause light bulbs to explode?”
He avoids looking at me and his tone is clipped. “I don’t know. I’m not an electrician.”
I suck in a breath as I stand up. Running my hand down the front of my jeans, I clear the remaining glass off and then depart for the door. “Alright, let’s go then.”
I’m overwhelmed. Baffled. There are thoughts in my head that need resolution, but I don’t know how to seek it. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes as I hurry for the door and out into the crowded hall. There are even more people littering the room than when we arrived and even more smoke filtering the air. I hold my breath and tuck in my elbows as I begin to squeeze through the sweaty bodies that smell like salt and alcohol.
Fingers wrap around my upper arm and I’m jerked back as a current of heat charges through my body. Alex guides me back toward the mellower end of the hall.
“I’m sorry,” he says it so softly that I’m not sure I heard it correctly.
I look at him. “Sorry for what?” The list of reasons is endless.
Releasing my arm, he rakes his hand through his messy hair, making it stick up more than it usually does. “I just… I don’t know. Panicking, I guess. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” It’s physically paining him to say it. His hand falls to his side and he hesitates. “But, that can’t happen again. We have to… we have to be friends. Just friends.”
It sounds like a copout line. I cross my arms, trying to protect myself from the feelings of humiliation eating away at me. “I didn’t even know we were that.”
He huffs out a breath as his head falls back. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren
’t you?”
I expand my hands out to the side of me, nearly hitting a woman as she whisks by. ”I’m not doing anything, except being honest. I don’t know you. You don’t know me, at least, not very well.”
He lifts his head back up and there is a frown puckering at his brow. “But, I do.”
I shake my head, fighting to stay composed. “How come—” The music switches to an upbeat rhythm that pounds through the speakers and asphyxiates my tone. People start going wild, banging their heads and gyrating their bodies against each other. I inch closer to Alex, even though the heat and the disgusted look on his face is ripping my heart into a thousand pieces of nothingness. “How come you’re fine one second and then suddenly, completely offish? I don’t get you. At all. And it’s like you do it on purpose. Like you…” I trail off as he stares at me, biting at his lip, seeming amused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shakes his head as he grins. “It’s nothing.” There’s a pause and he stares at my mouth. “I just realized that I’m going to have my hands full.”
I’m not sure what it is; the stifling heat or the wounding of my pride, but I suddenly lift my hand to hit him. He starts to smile, but then all humor leaves his face as his gaze dashes over my shoulder. He quickly grabs my arm and tugs me down the hall toward the bedroom door. Pressing his hands to my back, he shoves me forward. I trip over my feet and land on the bed.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I sit up as he slams the door and spins around.
He puts his finger to his lips, shushing me, then he races over to the window. Peering outside, he reaches into his pocket and draws out a small pocketknife. He flips the blade open and turns to me with the sharp end aimed at my heart.
“Is that what you stole out of the wall?” I inch away from him with my hands out in front of me.
He glances at the knife, then lowers it to his side and shakes his head. “No.” His boots thud against the floor as he paces with his fists clenched. “Remember that snake-tattoo guy I was telling you about? Well, he’s here.”
I keep my eyes on the knife in his hand. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t…” He spins toward the window and flings it open. A nippy breeze howls at my ears and snowflakes encircle around me. “We’re going to climb out the window.”
There’s no way I’m going to jump out the window and into the snowy forest. I’ve hated the forest ever since my dream. I’m already too close now. Shaking my head, I kneel up and back away across the bed. “Why can’t I just walk out the door and meet you at the car? He’s not after me?”
He turns to me and there’s a cautious look in his eyes. “Well actually he kind of is.”
I climb off the bed and stand up on the other side to maintain some distance between us. “How am I a part of this?”
He sticks out his hand. “It doesn’t matter right now. You need to come with me—we need to get out of here.”
I arch my eyebrows at his hand. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, he rounds the bed in quick, determined strides, so I have little time to react. Before I know it, he’s right in front of me. “That’s a really long story that I don’t have time to explain at the moment.” He laces his fingers through mine and hauls me toward the open window. “I just need to get you out of here. I should never have brought you here.”
I remove my hand from his and glance out the window at the forest that stretches aimlessly into the night. “Then why did you?”
His gaze interlocks with mine. “Because I can’t seem to stay away from you for some Goddamn, annoying reason.”
Uncertain how to react, I seal my lips and climb up onto the windowsill. Swinging my leg out, I glance back at him. “You’re coming, too, right?”
He nods, but his gaze darts to the door as it swings open. I catch a glimpse of yellow that flickers as a cape flaps and then I’m being shoved out the window. Luckily, we are on the first floor, and the fall is short. I land in the snow bank and sink into it. Falling onto my hands and knees, I dig my nails into the snow and claw my way forward, dragging my legs out of the snow bank. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the window I’ve just fallen out of. It is freezing and dark, and there are shadows moving all over inside the house. I can see two figures in the room, fighting against each other, swinging their fists and there’s a lot of loud banging. I push to my feet and back away, undecided. Should I run? Or wait? As I turn toward the car, I hear a soft thud and I spin around. Alex has jumped out the window and is running for me. Within a beat, he’s grabbing my hand and then we are running like hell around the house. His skin is cold and his body blurs against the darkness. I struggle to keep up, my legs stretching to their maximum length. I’m moving so quickly that I run into him as he stops and it’s like colliding with a wall made of ice.
“What is it?” I stagger to the right as he begins to move again, detouring around a fence and then heading toward the trees. My legs fight to keep up with him as he picks up the pace. I can barely see anything; the sharp features of his face and the solid outline of his body blends with the dark. “We’re seriously not going in there, are we?”
As we reach a small opening where the trees break apart from one another, he stops and glances from left to right. Then he releases my hand and turns in a circle, looking lost as he takes in the trees. His hair is crisped with frost and the way he moves his legs, without quite bending his knees is strange.
“What are you doing?” I breathe and the cold stings my lungs. “Did you get injured? You look like you’re walking funny.”
He remains silent as he hikes toward the trees, crossing his legs with each step. He no longer has the knife in his hand and there’s something off about him—he is too quiet.
“Alex,” I hiss and chase after him, keeping my head low to the ground because the branches of the trees clip my head. “What are we running from?”
He looks at me from over his shoulder and the moonlight reflects in his eyes. His pupils look hollow as if every last speck of emotion has been emptied. He smiles and it’s like looking at a ghost. Something’s wrong.
I shuffle backwards with my hands poised out to the side. The ground is slippery and snow keeps falling from the branches of the trees and down the collar of my coat. Alex doesn’t utter a word to me, he only observes me. The recollection of a memory runs over me like a truck and my knees almost give out. I’ve dreamt about this place before. I was in the trees, it was dark, and the moon was bright. I brace a hand against a tree and squint through the dark. Through the darkness, a dim flicker of light surfaces. I want to run, but my legs are bound to the ground by my fear.
“Why did you bring me here?” I demand. “And who are you really?”
He folds his arms across his chest and stares at me, unresponsive. His stare is weighted and overpowering. My body longs to be near him, but the rage inside my head keeps me put.
“Answer me!” I shout and the sound echoes for miles and snow shivers from the bare branches of the trees. My body shakes from the wrath inside me. “Do you know what’s going to happen? Is that why you brought me out here? Because you want it to happen?!”
Again he’s silent, like a mummy with their lips stitched shut. The shadows of the branches cast across his face and the wind howls around us. I pry my hand away from the tree and force my feet to move. I know what is going to happen and I need to get out of here, with or without him. In a slow, lethargic movement, I rotate around and drag my feet through the deep snow. The sky is a sheet of black and my bearings are mixed up from the cold that possesses my limbs. I’m lost. I glance over my shoulder and Alex is gone. He has bailed on me; left me out here in the dark. I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a frightening one.
“Shit,” I curse as I circle around a tree, hunching over as I try to track my footsteps back to the cabin. The light glimmers in the distance, beckoning me to come closer and I keep winding around the trees, trying to
get back to the cabin, but all that seems to happen is I grow nearer to the light. It is getting colder and the moonlight is fading behind the clouds.
I halt at the sight of lofty shadows emerging from the trees. They’re just a hallucination, like in the parking lot. It has to be. However, as the figures surfaces move closer, the fear that races through my body and rams into my gut and chest is very real.
“Gemma, what are you doing out here?” Alex winds around the last of the trees and steps out into the open. The remaining stream of moonlight casts across his face and his eyes look normal again, not empty. There are scratches on his face, his jacket is torn, and his hair is disheveled. “Why the hell didn’t you run to the car?”
My gaze drifts to the knife in his hand. There’s blood on his knuckles and on the blade. “You took me out here.”
He stops a distance away and his eyebrows dip together. “What are you talking about?” He’s close enough now that I can see a thin river of blood streaming down his wrist.
“You’re bleeding?” I dare a step closer to him.
His shoulder moves forward and he examines the blood pouring out of his arm. “It’s just a scratch.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s bad.”
“I’ll live, but we have to get you out of here.” He offers me his uninjured hand, but I don’t take it. “Would you just come with me?”
“I don’t know.” I look over my shoulder, noting that the light in the distance has vanished. “I can’t… I don’t…” Confusion is overwhelming me. I want to run to where the light disappeared. I want to run away from Alex. I want to run away with Alex. I have no idea what to do. I’m pretty sure I am the most confused human being that has ever lived.
Shattered Promises (Shattered Promises, #1) Page 8
