“No.” He rolls so he can brush his free hand along my cheek. “You’re not the first kid to grow up in some screwed-up religious family who thinks they have a monopoly on morality.”
I hear his words but need another moment before I understand them. And, oh. Yeah, I guess that’s one possible explanation. Why would he assume my mother fought crime and had superpowers when it’s easier to assume she was some hardline Christian?
And I should tell him the truth. He’s told me as much, so it’s only fair. But I can’t. I’ve held the secret of our identity my whole life. There’s no gray area. No acceptable reason to share.
I can’t give him that, so I give him something else, something I’ve been wanting too since we got here.
I kiss him. I close the last few inches between us until our lips meet, and from there it’s easy. The hand on my face tips my jaw up so we fit together just right. His lips are cool under mine, and unlike before, with Leo coming up the hall, there’s no hurry here, so we take our time.
“Morgan.” He slides under the blankets with me. I bury my face in his neck. I really do like the way he smells, and now it’s all around me. On him, on the sheets, on me, where I’m wearing his clothes.
I haven’t touched anyone like this in a long time, and I’m tired. Tired of keeping secrets, tired of being strong. More than anything, I’m tired of being alone. Jasper’s here and he’s not the person I thought he was, and it’s the best news I’ve heard all day.
He groans as I suck on the hinge of his jaw, and our legs tangle together. His hand goes to my hip, and I remember the feeling of it there, fingers pressing into my thighs as he held me in place as Leo stomped up the hall. I’d wanted him then, but it wasn’t the right time.
Now would be okay, though.
“Morgan,” he says again, his mouth chasing mine as I get to know him a little better. His fingers slide under my—his—shirt, and I jerk at the sensation. “Are you okay with this?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’m okay with it. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but...”
He laughs, mouth spreading wide against mine. “If it’s a bad idea, we can try again tomorrow.”
I ignore the implication. We both know it’s there. He’s not talking about the real tomorrow. He’s talking about ours. The one where something happens—a freak tornado, or the floor gives way and I get crushed as we tumble into the garage below—and I die, and we have to start all over again.
But as Jasper runs his fingers down my spine, I think maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe this is all we needed to do. If we tell each other our deepest secrets, maybe the spell will be broken?
Though if that’s the case, there are some things I have to say, but it’s so tempting not to and go with what we’re feeling right now.
“Jasper, wait.” I put a palm on his chest, and he freezes instantly.
“What? Is something wrong?”
This is a bad idea. We should stick with the kissing. But he was honest with me, and I should do the same. It’s about trust, and I want to trust him so very much.
“I need to tell you,” I say, “about my mother. About me. It’s—” It’s hard is what it is. The words are all jamming up in my throat.
“It’s okay,” he says, mouth coming to mine again, tongue flicking over my lower lip. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me now.”
I don’t have to, but I should.
Except then the decision is made for me when the apartment door bursts open and six men in black masks and carrying guns burst into the room.
I put my hands up in some old defensive reflex the way my mother used to when she needed to conjure up a ball of living flame and blast the bad guys. She taught me to do the same, even though nothing ever happened. No flame. No ice. For a second, I nearly feel a wave of cool power wash over me like I used to hope it would, but it’s a phantom sensation and there’s nothing there. Before I can make a complete fool of myself, Jasper’s got one arm around me and he’s pulling me behind him.
“What the hell?” he shouts, but that’s all he gets to say before the men are on us and we’re wrestled out of bed and down to the ground. My arms are wrenched painfully behind my back.
“Let go of me!”
“Leave him alone,” Jasper says.
“Don’t be a dick and this doesn’t have to hurt,” the man over Jasper says, planting his knee in Jasper’s back.
“Leave now and you won’t have to apologize later,” Jasper sneers, but his words only earn him a boot to the face, clipping his chin and jerking his head back.
“No!” I shout.
Jasper spits blood on the carpet. “Another mistake. You don’t know who I work for.”
