Page 18 of Fire
If he were mine, I’d let him know every day how talented and special I think he is. I’d show him, too. Now, for instance, I’d lay him down on the floor and worship him by nipping and teasing every inch of his body. I’d tell him how incredibly smart and beautiful he is. Oh yeah, I’d let him know how stunning he is. Then, I’d slowly, tortuously get him ready for me until he was begging for me to fill him up. I’d make him repeat every compliment back to me until he started believing every word of them. Then, I’d?—
But he’s not mine
“I’m going to take a shower,” I announce and flee for the bathroom, which has become my refuge when I’m on the edge of stepping over the boundaries I’ve set for myself.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: fucking boundaries.
Chapter 6
Evan
Since agreeing to let me cover Freedom Festival, Luca has put me through rigorous daily quizzes of different what-if scenarios.
Today, we’re in the kitchen making breakfast. I’m toasting bread, and Luca’s mixing up a veggie omelet while he rapid-fires what-ifs at me. What if I were to get separated from him and my other bodyguards? What if gunfire broke out? What if Luca were to become injured while protecting me?
That one, I don’t have to think hard about.
“I’d help you,” I answer immediately.
“Wrong answer,” he fires out, startling me with his tone and volume. He turns around from the stove, eyes blazing, muscles tense.He’s furious.
It takes me a second to process it. I’ve screamed at him. I’ve accused him of things he didn’t do. I even threw several objects at him, and I didn’t even get so much as a raised voice in retribution. Telling the guy I’d help him if he were hurt is the thing that causes him to Hulk out?
He steps into my space. I give a startled gasp at having his muscled body pressed to mine. His strong arms grasp me by the shoulders and shake me lightly. “I don’t care if I’m dying inthe street; you step over my convulsing body and get your ass to safety.”
He’s got to be kidding me. “No! I’d never walk away from you like that,” I say, truly horrified.
My response makes him even angrier. “Again. Wrong answer,” he grates out. “If any of our crew are around, you go with them. And if we’re alone, you do everything you have to get yourself to safety.”
I’ll fight him on this. Even if it means he keeps me from covering Freedom Fest. There’s no way I’ll agree to leave him behind if he’s hurt. I look up at him and open my mouth to tell him just that when I see the vulnerability behind his agitated eyes. I want to reach out and put a calming hand on his face, to take care of him the way he does me, but resist. “Why is this so important to you?”
Not getting another refusal from me seems to calm him a bit. I feel his muscles slightly relax. “I need to know you’ll be safe.” He shakes me again. “No matter what happens, I need you safe.”
This man wrecks me. No one has ever cared for me before, not really. And Luca, who I’ve known only for a few weeks, is here making me promise to put my well-being over his.
“Okay. Okay,” I tell him soothingly. “Whatever you ask, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll leave me behind if something happens to me.”
“Yes,” I say, even though it hurts to say the word out loud, and I have no intention of keeping my promise if the what-if game were to really happen. A flash of an injured, bleeding Luca invades my brain, causing my chest to seize.Please, God, let it never, ever happen.
With my lying words, Luca relaxes, and the anger melts from his body. Without the tense conversation between us, it becomes just the two of us locked in an embrace.
I start playing a different version of the what-if game. One I like a whole lot better.
What if he gripped me tighter instead of releasing me, and told me he would never let me go? What if he then bent down and took me in a kiss that made me feel safe and like I belonged in his arms? What if he told me he lo?—
Luca’s muscles tighten when he comes back to himself enough to notice the way he has me pinned to him. He doesn’t loosen his grip or step back. Instead, his eyes sweep down and focus on the picture our bodies make locked together, and when his gaze returns to me, it’s molten hot.
Time stills as we stare at each other. I swear I can feel the beat of his heart against my chest as he slowly leans toward me, and I feel the whisper-light touch of his lips against mine.
Beep. Beep Beep.
What the fuck?
Luca jumps back from me, and it takes me a full minute to realize the sound is the smoke detector going off because the omelet Luca had been cooking is now a charred, smoldering mess.
He’s already dealt with the smoke alarm, turned off the burner, and soaked the pan by the time I process it all. “Luca,” I say, coming up behind him and putting my hand on his shoulder, hoping he’ll turn around and take me back in his arms.
