EMMA
I wake to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Alex is lying on his side, one arm tucked under a couch pillow, the other loosely draped over my waist, keeping him tethered to me. The early morning light spills through the living room window in pale silvers, catching on the curve of his jaw and the way his lashes brush against his cheeks. For a moment, I let myself look at him,reallylook at this older, more beautiful version. I didn’t even think it was possible for Alexander Cruz to get more attractive, but time has proved me wrong.
I don’t know what I feel, only that it’s messy and dangerous, but also everything I want.
I pull the blanket tighter around myself, careful not to wake him. I don’t remember falling asleep with it. Alex must’ve gotten it from my room and covered us in it sometime in the night. Shifting slightly onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. My skin is still warm from where he was, and I hate that I miss the weight of his arm the second it’s gone so I place it over myself again.
What did we do?
I mean, Iknowwhat we did. My sore thighs and bruised lips are proof enough. But it’s thewhythat leaves me confused. Idon’t know if I regret it, that’s the terrifying part. Last night feels like a mistake and a lifeline all at once. If I could bottle up the way he’d looked at me in the dark, quiet and reverent like I was the answer to all his questions, then maybe the rest of it wouldn’t hurt so much.
I roll onto my side again, this time facing him. He’s still asleep. Bastard sleeps like he doesn’t have a single ounce of guilt in him. Maybe he doesn’t, and it’s only me that does.
Before I can talk myself into unraveling entirely, his eyes flutter.
“Hi, Princess,” he says, voice laced with sleep. “You’re staring.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You definitely are.”
I grab a pillow to smack him with it. He grins, catching it before it hits his face and tossing it aside.
“Well, good morning to you too.” His voice is scratchy in a way that sends a pulse right between my legs.
Nope. absolutely not. We are not doing that again.
“I should make coffee.” I mumble, sitting up and reaching for the oversized hoodie on the ground next to all the other clothing remnants from the night before. It smells like him. I hate that I like that.
“You could,” he says. “Or…” He pulls me back by the waist but I resist, jerking away from his grip and off the couch.
“Don’t even think about it, Alexander.”
He gasps at the sound of his full name and backs off, dragging a hand through his messy hair. I am crawling into the hoodie, many sizes too big for me when he says, “Come with me today.”
I pause, half my body and arm still not covered. “What?”
“I want to take you somewhere.”
My eyes narrow. “Why do you sound like you’re about to take me to a secret murder cabin?”
He laughs. “Would I really bring you to a murder cabin if I fucked you?”
“Pretty sure that’s exactly when you’d do it.”
He sits up and leans back on his elbows. “I’m serious, Em. Come with me.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not helping your murder case.”
“I’m not telling you. You have to trust me.”
Trust—that slippery, dangerous word. I used to trust him without question, but that was years ago. So much has happened since then.
