Bastian’s fingers curved. Not restraining me. But expressing something he couldn’t quite put into words.
The buzzing in my chest vibrated throughout my entire body. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He was very, very serious.
“I know you, Sara.” He was insistent. His gaze held me captive. “I know you’re kind. That you put everyone and everything before yourself.” He pulled me closer. Hardly a breath of air between us.
“I know that you think you have to live this way. That you have some pre-ordained fate that you can’t escape.” He ran his hands up and down my arms. Warming me.
Making me shiver.
“Bastian…”
He leaned in and kissed me. Only the second kiss of my entire life but I swear it was the best kiss I could ever have. Soft and insistent. Intense and perfect. His lips molded to mine as though they were meant to stay there.
This time we lingered. A kiss here. A kiss there. We took our time. Even with the constant fear of being discovered, I wanted to savor him. To savor this.
Because it couldn’t last.
Bastian pulled back. I wished he wouldn’t. “You were upset yesterday. You looked scared. I had to know you were okay. That something hadn’t happened—”
I felt myself become instinctually defensive. “What do you think would have happened?”
He frowned. “I don’t know—”
“Stop demonizing us, Bastian,” I spat out, venting my anger, my frustration on him. Because it was easier than placing it where it really belonged.
On myself.
“I’m not demonizing anyone. I’m just trying to tell you that I care about you. That I want to know you’re all right. That what happens to you matters to me,” he implored, pulling my face to his. Kissing me softly.
I let him.
Bastian Scott had become my favorite sin.
“You matter to me too,” I told him.
Why had I admitted that?
I wanted to take it back the moment it had slipped out of my mouth.
But then Bastian’s face became tender and I was glad to have told him.
The regret and guilt that quickly followed was inevitable.
A conditioned response to my happiness.
I pulled away. Knowing that’s what I should do.
Even if it’s not what Iwantedto do.
“Sara, don’t,” he whispered.
“Don’t what?” I licked my dry lips. They were cracked from the sun. From not taking care of myself as I should.
We were in perilous territory.
He brushed a strand of hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His hand came up to curl around the side of my neck, his thumb resting over the pounding pulse.
“Don’t pull away,” he answered, his voice soft. Cracking slightly. “I meant it when I said that you’re different. You see more. Youaremore than the rest of them.”
