Purple is definitely your color, by the way.
My heart dropped another ten stories.
How this was happening when Marcus and I had gotten me a whole new back up system of phone numbers, one's that would be impossible to trace to me, I had no idea. And then I looked around the room—no cameras, no way for Jamie to know what I was wearing. But he did. Of course he did. I felt foolish for assuming otherwise.
I dropped the phone, hands flying to my mouth as I stumbled back against the desk. Something clattered to the floor, but all I felt was the quake in my body.
“Cora?” Marcus’s voice pressed through the door. “You okay?”
I couldn’t answer. My legs buckled, and I hit the carpet, knees burning as I scrambled away from the phone.
“Cora, what’s wrong?”
Tears blurred everything. Fear pinned me down, thick and suffocating, as though Jamie’s hands were still on me. A sob ripped free from my throat.
“I’m coming in!”
His voice barely registered before the door flew open. I refused to take my eyes off my phone, but in my peripheral, I saw him—a wall of black striding toward me, knees on the floor beside me.
“Hey, hey, hey. What happened?” His voice was panicked as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, brushing some of my hair from my eyes. “What happened, Cora?”
I didn’t say a thing, but he followed my line of sight. The second he saw my phone, I knew he knew.
I shook my head as it fell, tears rolling down my face. I sucked in all the air my lungs would allow as my quivering lips opened. “He knows I’m here. He knows what I’m wearing.”
Almost immediately, Marcus stiffened, his arm tightening around me like Jamie was behind the curtain, waiting to grab me. “Fuck.” He rested his forehead on mine. “You’re safe. He can’t get you. That’s all that matters.”
I arched my neck, finding his eyes, noting the sadness laced within them.
“But when is this going to stop? Huh?” My shoulders shook as tears streamed. “How long am I just going to let him keep thinking this is okay? When is he going to let me go?”
Marcus’ hands gripped my shoulders, his eyes sobering me. “He has never had any control of you, Cora. You destroyed that the second you ran out of that car and showed the worldwhat kind of man he really is.” He shook my shoulders—gentle enough that it didn’t hurt, hard enough to remind me how much he cared. “You hold all the power. He’s just trying to make you believe you don’t.”
I shook my head as his hands rose to my face, cupping my cheeks. “I don’t feel very powerful.”
His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, swiping tears, but he didn’t look away. His gaze held mine, steady, unwavering. “You are,” he whispered. “You’re the most powerful person I know.”
I froze, caught in the weight of his words, the warmth of his hands, the steady heat of him so close. I could feel the tiniest shift, the subtle tilt of his head, as if waiting for permission I hadn’t realised I wanted to give.
“Cora…” His voice was soft, tentative, wrapping around me like a shield.
I didn’t answer. I just leaned into him, drawn by something I couldn’t name, something I didn’t want to fight. His lips hovered near mine, hesitant, waiting. I felt the same pull, the same need to close the space between us.
And then we did, simultaneously, as if the world had paused to give us this one moment. Our mouths met, slow, searching, a quiet affirmation that neither of us had to wait any longer. Hands found shoulders and waists, holding on as if letting go would shatter us.
It was almost the same feeling as how I made my tea in the morning. I didn't have to think about it, or whether doing it would make an impact on my day. I just did it. I knew the steps.I knew it was going to make me happy. Even as it went cold on my nightstand. It was the same kismit feeling that everything would be okay, just for that little moment in time.
And right now I was in that same perfect place. Even if it was temporary, even if it would end the moment he sobered and pulled away, I let myself stay in it.
His lips moved around mine, soft and strong, completely captivating. One hand slid to the back of my neck, the other cradled the small of my back. We were pressed right against the glass of the window. Once the shock wore off, my side melted into it, as though we were floating.
Slowly, his body moved against mine, his pulse pounding against my skin, almost in sync with my own. He swiped his tongue over mine, like he was trying to cram every ounce of me in before he snapped out of it again.
But the way his hand caressed the tender skin of my throat, the intensity of his mouth, made me wonder if he’d ever pull away.
Curiosity got the best of me. I held his arm and pulled back slightly, eyes locking. The sheer look of him made me want to ignore the questions and just keep kissing. Strands of hair over his forehead, lips glistening, quiet panting like I’d taken all the air from his lungs.
I shook my head. “You aren’t pulling away.”
