He cocked his head to the side, as if absorbing the information.She didn’t want his pity though.She stood.It was time for that bath.
But he caught her, wrapping his hand around her wrist.
“You won’t have to.Lie to them again, I mean.I’m just not ready yet.But thank you.And how anyone could reject you is beyond me.”His fingers tightened around her wrist, and she felt his warmth sink into her cold bones.
“How are you always so warm?”was all she could think to say.
He chuckled.“How are you always so cold?”His eyes met hers.“We’re made for each other, see.”He tucked a strand of her rain-damp hair behind her ear.“Allow me to warm you up.”He lowered his head closer to her face and her breath caught in her throat.It was like only he could release it.She’d never seen this look in his eyes before, not even at the wedding before he kissed her.This was different.This was longing.And she reflected it right back.He moved slowly, so slowly, giving her the chance to stop him, to move out of the way.She wanted the opposite.The absolute opposite.They were sharing breath, and she reached out and tugged him forward by his shirt collar, so that his lips spilled over hers.The warmth, the buzz in her veins, was instant, like a match.This was nothing like their first kiss.This was soft.This was sober.This was the kind of kiss that lingered in your mind for years to come, that you daydreamed about.He pulled her closer, one hand cupping the side of her face.
He broke the kiss, tipping her head up to meet his eyes.She could go nowhere even if she wanted to.And she didn’t.She was drowning in him.
“I’ve dreamed of you, of this.”His lips trailed her cheeks, her neck.“But nothing compares to the real thing.”His lips covered her again and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears.She didn’t want this to end.It couldn’t, she wouldn’t let it.
Chapter Seven
Drew
Her bedroom door was open.He wasn’t being a freak, a peeping tom.Yeah, keep telling yourself that.He’d tossed and turned all night at the thought of her just one door down.Just one door away from him was the woman of his dreams.The very woman who was only here because he’d put her in danger.The kiss had only confirmed it.At the time every sensible, logical thought had rattled from his head at the first brush of her lips, but in the cold light of day, they had returned.There was no getting out of this.He would return to them ...to Max.He had to, and he had to do it today before he changed his mind.His parents would be safe, should anything else go wrong, she’d seen to that, and he would see to it that she was safe.Because if he belonged to the gang again, if he did what Max wanted, he had no reason to hurt her.
The early morning sunlight stole its way through the curtains, falling on her, like it couldn’t help but highlight her.In turn, mocking him: look at her, look at the future you can’t have because the other you, the long-buried half of you, decided to ruin everything.
Goodbye Alana, he said internally.Maybe in another life...
He couldn’t fully fall into his thoughts, they were like a bottomless well brimming with pain, but for her...She brought out something in him that he was going to have to let go of.He wouldn’t write a note, no.It was better this way.To be in her life one day and gone the next.No long, drawn-out cries or goodbyes.She would be safe.When he had everything together, he’d sign the house over to her, for if the day came when she ever needed somewhere to go.Somewhere to just be.
With that, he sent a text to Max, asking him where to meet.Time to get this over with.
He’d chosen a bar, of course, not far away from the club.Two men stood outside the door, flashing him a grin.He grinned right back.They must be new recruits; he didn’t recognize them.They let him pass without any fuss.The bar was dimly lit, with a few tables and chairs laid out.There was no one behind the bar, nobody working.What had Max done with the workers?He could only hope that he had sent them home with their day’s wages.He could be like that sometimes.Thoughtful, even.But other times, he would kill someone for looking at him the wrong way.He didn’t even know what constituted the wrong way anymore.
“You’ve cleared this place out,” he said, walking toward the table where Max was laughing, beer in hand, cigarette in mouth.
“Well, well, the man of the hour.What do you want me to call you, by the way?Michael?Drew?Or maybe something completely new?A fresh start.”He grinned lazily.
“Drew is fine.”
He pulled up a chair.
