Page 57 of Challenge Me

“Really.” I let out a breath and added, more quietly, “Thank you. Both of you. For tonight, and for waiting.”

Fox’s headlights steadied, and Al studied me, searching for proof of a lie. “We can stay if you need us.”

“No. Go home. Sleep.”

Al’s gaze drifted between Ghost and me, and understanding settled across his face, along with a judging expression I didn’t care for; Al was nothing but a hypocrite. I pointed toward the garage door, my patience vanishing. “Out.”

◆◆◆

For the first time since the workshop, Ghost and I were alone.

I slid my hand under the lip of his hood, ignoring the amusement on his face as I groped. “Show me, ” I ordered as I searched for the release latch. “I want to make sure you are okay.”

Ghost’s eyes dropped to my injured leg, then rose to the blood drying against my temple. “Is now really the time for this? You can barely stand; you’re in no position to fix anything.”

Nevertheless, he slid from his perch as I waved a hand at him, and I traced my fingers over his damaged hood, the metal still warm beneath the mud and blood. A sharp crease distorted the reflection of the garage lights. I finally found the latch, only to find it stuck from the damage. “Damn. Ghost, can you open it?”

Ghost’s brow lifted. “Darlin’, I’m not the one in need of a service right now.” His presence pressed against my back before his arms closed around me, one broad palm settled carefully at my waist, his thumb resting above my hip. The touch was restrained, almost hesitant.

I straightened slowly and turned within the circle of his arm. My hand settled against his chest. “I am sorry,” I mumbled, shamefaced.

Ghost’s expression hardened. “For what?”

I glanced toward the dented hood. “For the damage. The workshop was my plan. I knew what I was asking of you, but seeing you now–”

Ghost’s cassette deck clicked; my Eurotrash techno music exploded through the speakers, loud enough to make a row of tools vibrate against the wall. I stared at him. “Ghost.”

Ghost ignored me and increased the volume.

“How dare you silence my apology by assaulting me with my own excellent taste?” I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed sweetly as he pressed closer against me, his lips brushing my ear. “Oh, little Hellcat…”

I tried resisting. I didn’t want to, not really, but it wasn’t my style to just melt in someone’s arms. “You hate this tape. Why are you playing it?”

His voice softened in a way that left me dangerously weak. “Because you love it.”

The answer caught beneath my ribs.

Ghost brushed his knuckles over the blood dried along my temple, barely touching the skin. His gaze followed the trail down to my split lip. “You got hurt for me,” he worried, turning down the volume of the music just a little.

“No.” I shook my head. “I was hurt beside you.”

His thumb moved beneath my lower lip. The gentleness of the touch made my hunger sharpen until it became almost unbearable. We were both hurt, dirty, exhausted. ‘Lai’, the rational part of my mind begged. ‘Save it till tomorrow.’

I pulled Ghost closer as I turned to face him. His hips met mine, and his hands moved to my waist, steadying rather than claiming. “What do you need?” He asked; there was no teasing in the question.

My pulse climbed into my throat. “You.”

His eyes darkened. “Lai, you’re hurt.”

“I am bruised. Exhausted. Extremely irritated by the condition of my coat.” I slid my hand behind his neck and brought his mouth close to mine. “I am also perfectly capable of deciding what I want, and I want you to take care of me.”

Ghost’s hand rose to cup my jaw, thumb brushing beneath the cut on my lip.

He kissed me.

The first touch was tender, his mouth warm against mine, but I had not asked for tenderness. I caught his lower lip between my teeth and pulled until the kiss deepened, tasting rain, shadow and the coppery trace of my split lip. Ghost’s tongue moved against mine, patient and thorough.