Being this close to him should scare me, and it does to a certain extent, but not for the reason it should. It scares me because the little voice in the back of my head is telling me to say that I do trust him.
But Idon’t.
Right?
Cross squeezes my chin again, this time my lips pursing.
I reach up out of instinct and grab a hold of his wrist. It’s strong and sturdy, just like he is.
“I trustedhim,” I admit, referencing Nick. “So excuse me for not trusting you.”
With one hand still holding me hostage, the other messes with the flask. My pulse thrums when Cross lifts the opened container and positions it above my closed mouth. I squeezemy eyes shut and wait for the bite of alcohol to touch my lips. Except, it never does.
My eyes fly open when the liquid flows onto my tongue.
“It’s water,” he says. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”
I unclench my jaw. “Why?”
Cross’s eyes move languidly back and forth between mine, like he’s trying to learn every one of my secrets.
He stares at me for a brief second.
“Is this what he did to you?” he questions, tipping his head back to let the water inside the flask pour into his own mouth. I watch in awe as his throat moves smoothly with each swallow before he tosses the container off to the side. The sound of it hitting the mat echoes around us, but all I can think about is how that same flask was just touching my lips a moment ago.
“Did he get you drunk so he was able to do this…” Cross quickly drops my chin, and both of his hands end up around my waist.
I arch my back as a sharp breath of air leaves me. I push myself onto the cage again, the metal rattling around us. The temperature kicks up a degree as Cross’s knee makes its way in between my legs, spreading them open just enough to get me thinking all sorts of things Ishouldn’tbe when it comes to him.
What is wrong with me?
This is wrong, on so many levels.
One second, I’m ready to murder him, and the next, a flush is working itself up my neck.
Not to mention, we’restepsiblings.
I exhale shakily as Cross’s warm breath coats the side of my neck. His nose graces the delicate skin, and it puts me in a daze. My head falls to the side, and I swear I hear him chuckle.
“Or…” The warm embrace from Cross’s closeness vanishes. He moves quickly, his nose skimming my skin as he positions hisface in front of me. “Did he slip something in your drink so he didn’t have to face your rejection?”
Like pulling the trigger on a gun, I look away, unable to face the question.
Cross tugs me toward him, the cage behind my back no longer there to support me. Instead, it’s him and his hold on my waist.
“Answer me.” His low voice is more of a command than anything, and I could lie, deny his accusation. I could pretend it never happened and that Nick was just some lousy ex-boyfriend.
But for some reason, I find myself opening my mouth and doing the complete opposite.
Maybe it’s because of our close proximity or the way his brown eyes soften as he waits for my reply. Either way, my voice croaks as I give him exactly what he wants: the truth.
“The latter,” I say quietly.
Cross’s eye twitches. “He spiked your drink?”
I flare my nostrils in an attempt to keep myself from showing him how ashamed I am. My throat grows tight, and the longer I stare into his waiting eyes, the more twisted I become.
“It’s not that uncommon,” I say, chalking it up to something much less severe than what it is. “Girls get drugged all the time.”
