Sutton waits. I clear my throat, glancing over my shoulder. The thick brown curtains are pulled in his living room, along with the coverings in the kitchen and foyer. At the end of the hall, his bedroom door is shut, and no other sound is made while we sit there in silence.
Running his thumb over my nipple, he cocks his head. “Everything all right?”
No, but I’m not sure why I feel so uneasy. Maybe it’s just paranoia seeping in from Fury Hill or the leftover adrenaline from the auditorium earlier.
“Is this what you asked me here to do?” I ask instead, avoiding eye contact.
He looks up from my chest. “Well, I’m not exactly opposed…”
“Maybe we shouldn’t. I mean, don’t you think the whole thing in the auditorium was a little oddly timed, especially considering the Death’s Teeth stuff?”
“What’s that got to do with what we’re doing now?”
I shrug. “What if they know you’re trying to push the Maiden duties off on Sabrina or that I’m the one you’re really picking?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m Incarnate. They can’t disobey a direct order to let me handle things. Sabotage would be insubordination. A punishable offense.”
“Punishable how?”
“I’d…rather not say.”
We spend several minutes sitting just like that, not speaking, not moving. I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart, but that’s all. I let it ground me, shoving myself out of the narrative where something terrible is always about to happen.
It feels too easy that his dad let me walk away that night, especially if the organization hates Andersons as much as Sutton says. If my discovery could have resulted in my death without his interference, who’s to say they won’t try to off me outside the group functions and make it seem like an accident?
My eyes find Sutton’s, and I grind my teeth together. He doesn’twantme to be his Maiden, but he doesn’t feel there’s another choice.
And maybe there isn’t.
Maybe I should just be content with what I’ve got and stop poking my head where it doesn’t belong.
My mouth parts to tell Sutton about his dad, to clear that hurdle before it gets to him some other way, but then he’s palming the back of my head. He pulls me into another kiss, this one startlingly sweeter than the last. When he withdraws, he strokes my cheek with his thumb, then places me on the other side of the couch.
I watch as he gets up and heads for the kitchen, tossing something into the microwave. A few seconds later, popping noises fill the air, and the scent of melted butter assaults my nostrils, making my stomach growl.
When he comes back, several thick throw blankets and a bag of popcorn in hand, I move to stand and give him that space.
He settles back onto his cushion, giving me a look as I start to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my dorm?”
“I don’t think so. Come back here and watchCasablancawith me.”
“Casablanca?”
“You know it?”
“It’s one of my all-time favorites. I love all the classic movies, but that one in particular gets rewatched monthly.”
He grins. “I knew you were perfect for me for a reason. Come on. We can have a movie marathon. I haveMy Fair LadyandNorth by Northwestin my collection too.”
Licking my lips, I stare at him, then glance at the television when he switches it on. Within seconds, the black-and-white title screen comes on, though I still hesitate.
Is this a date? Can it really be considered one when we can’t even do things publicly?
A part of me is terrified that I’m getting my hopes up. That going any further with this man will only end in heartbreak.
Maybe that’s why I stopped things from progressing earlier. It’s starting to feel a bit too real, and I’m much more comfortable in the land of make-believe.
