Page 40 of Violent Skies

I hate it.

She didn’t even have trouble with the locks.

“No.” She shakes her head, sitting up in her seat. Her body tells me everything I need to know about the scolding I’m about to receive and I smile at her. “No, no smiling.” She points. “Car rides aren’t for arguments,” she tells me off. “They’re for running away from arguments, cutting out on all the issues. We never took a drive to fix stuff, we took them to avoid everything just for a little while. So if whatever you’re about to say is going to start a fight, you keep that mouth shut, Riggs Monroe, because the wind is in my hair and the sound of the highway is numbing.”

I stare at her for a little while longer, her lips pressed into a scowl.

“Watch the road,” she warns me and I shake my head, unable to argue with her. “It’s not cute.” She huffs.

“Do you want to drive?” I ask and her lips part because she instantly wants to say yes but she closes them again, hesitating.

“That worked when I was sixteen but I’m not ninety pounds anymore and this isn’t as roomy as the Civic,” she teases, looking around the car.

“There’s plenty of room.” I reach down between the door and my seat, popping the lever to slide the seat back. My legs are long enough to still have control, but it gives her all the room she needs to slide over.

“That’s dangerous,” she says, staying put but I extend my hand and click the seatbelt she’s wearing free.

“That’s the point,” I remind her. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and I nod my head at her to get her to come to me, thinking that there’s no way she’ll ever actually do it. That Cress has been gone for a long time.

I’m just about to give up on her when she climbs to her knees and works herself over the center toward my lap. I shift around her as she settles in my lap, keeping my eyes on the road. Her back presses against my chest and I lift my hand off the wheel as she takes it, hesitant to wrap it around her middle but…

The material of her shirt is soft under my fingertips and I feel her tense at the contact, but she keeps her eyes on the windshield timing her breathing so she doesn’t give herself away. I lean into that nervousness, resting my chin on her shoulder and letting the loose pieces of her hair tickle my face as she finds her courage again.

“I should have fought harder,” I whisper, shifting the car into gear for her and pressing down on the gas. The sun goes down against the horizon and sets the sky on fire around us as the mustang surges forward. “I should have protected you better. From all of this.”

She inhales slowly, focusing on keeping the car steady. There’s nowhere for her to go. She has to stay here, with my voice in her ear, my breath on her neck. She has to listen to what I have to say.

“I let Koa call the shots because I didn’t care, Cress.” I swallow and feel her jaw tighten. “I didn’t give a shit about any of it because he promised to take care of you and that was enough for me.”

I shift again and the mustang rumbles beneath us as it speeds up. At least now it’s keeping time with my heart. I didn't warn her not to kill us, not this time. Because the truth is we could die today and at least I’ll have gotten this off my chest.

“But I was wrong.” My tone drops and her fingers squeeze around the steering wheel. “His idea of protecting you was keeping you in the dark. He was convinced you couldn’t handle yourself. It was bullshit then, and it’s bullshit now.” I flex my hand on her stomach and she goes rigid under my touch. “He didn’t love you. He loved that he had you—and I didn’t.”

Cress turns her head and it startles me back just enough to keep our noses from brushing together. She’s so beautiful it hurts. The crooked curve of her nose, the small scar that nicks her top lip, the way her lashes curl up to the heavens and frame her massive eyes. I almost forget to breathe.

“I’m sorry I let him do that to us,” I say, barely audible over the engine.

She doesn’t say anything, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Watch the road, Cress.”

They flicker back quickly, just enough to make sure we were straight and then back to me, to my lips and then my eyes.

“Do it,” I tell her. Every thought she has is louder than life. She checks the road again as I press down on the gas. “Cress,” I snap and she looks back at me. “Kiss me.”

There’s no hesitation this time. She closes the gap like she doesn’t have a say in the matter, and I let her steal every ounce of air from my lungs. Her lips are softer than anything I’ve ever felt and they melt together with mine like they were made to be there. I pull her back against my chest even more, my fingers digging into her stomach. I know I should let her go, I should break away so she can drive, but I press upward into her kiss and take even more. My body is starving for it.

“Riggs,” she huffs against my lips.

I nod. I know better, I do, It’s just I can’t help myself. I groan once. It rumbles up through me and echoes loudly into the car so violently she can taste my annoyance.

“You can’t kiss me if we’re dead,” she whispers quickly, but it does nothing to satiate the fire in my chest so I clench my teeth, nod once, and steal another quick one to tide me over before she turns back to the road.

The sun pours through my window, and I reach for my pillow to cover my face, but I’m pinned to the mattress. I look down at the bundle of dark wavy hair and blink a few times. Do it.

I grind my teeth together, tempted to wake her up just to kiss her.

We had come home after the drive and laid in bed for a long time just soaking in the quiet. I learned quickly that kissing her once was a mistake. Not because I didn’t want to do it again, but because now it was all I could think about. And the issue is, we have enough on our plates without my newfound need to be suffocated by Cress.