My pulse flutters madly against my neck.
The second he reaches out, my hand shoots out the rest of the way and grasps his. I tug him inside.
He’s off balance and he stumbles before he catches himself, but it’s too late. I shut the door behind him. He stares longingly at it, and then back at me. He looks scared. Uncertain. Maybe more open than I’ve ever seen him. It’s heartbreaking. It’s even worse when I watch his top lip, shaped in that perfect bow, too ridiculously and unfairly sexy in every way, start to tremble.
I grasp his face between my palms because I can’t help myself. His skin is likeice. “Sit down,” I instruct gently. “Let me get you that towel.”
I go to the small linen closet beside the bathroom and get more than one towel. I have four big bath sheets. They’re the softest things ever. Someone was giving them away for free at a garage sale years ago, and I can still remember how excited I was to find them.
That’s me. Happy over darned terrycloth.
I’ve never been happier to have them than when I walk back to the kitchen and drape one over Shadow’s lap. He eyes me warily, like that towel can do some real damage.
Like I might.
I use the other, running it over his short hair and then gently dabbing his face with the corner. I’m half expecting him to stop and grab the towel from me. Tell me that he’s not a child and can dry himself off. Or something similarly snarky. But instead he just sits there.
Finished with his hair and face, I move on to his jacket. I might be able to do something about all the beaded water, but it’s sodden. I don’t think leather should get this wet.
“You should take this off. Let me hang it over a chair so it can dry a little.”
“No. Thanks.”
I set the towel down on his lap. I know he doesn’t want to stay long. “Tea?”
“I thought we’d established that—”
“That you love tea, I know.” I give him my most innocent smile. “Coffee it is. I have one of those freezer cakes to go with it. I had a dirty craving for one. I know they’re basically plastic, but whatever.”
I get it out of the freezer, ignoring his grunt of protest. I have the coffee going a few minutes after I serve him a decent sized piece.
When I set it down in front of him, his eyes get even darker. I hate that I can literally see the demons chasing across the dark depths. It kills me that it’s so hard for him to accept even the barest amount of kindness.
It kills me more that he’s still wearing those gloves and all his wet clothing.
He picks up the fork, stabs the cake, and takes a bite. “This is disgusting.” He takes another bite anyway. “Truly gross.”
Little beads of water start to pool on the floor under his chair. He rests his elbows on the table, two towels sitting uselessly in his lap.
“Terrible,” he grunts as he pushes his now empty plate away. “I never want to taste that again in my life.”
I fill up a mug with steaming black coffee and set it in front of him and take the empty plate to the sink. “I can tell you hated it,” I tease. I notice a smudge of icing at the corner of his lips. I want to take my thumb and wipe it away.
I want to take my tongue andlickit away. Part the seam of his lips and dive into his mouth until I feel the hot stroke of his tongue delving against my own.
I’m staring right at his mouth. I know it. He knows it.
He knows it more when I flick my eyes up to his. I’m wearing almost no makeup. I’m sure he can see that my cheeks are pink. I hold his gaze without looking away. I don’t back down. I want him. I’m sure it’s the most poorly disguised secret.
Before he can burst out of the chair and leave because he’s so uncomfortable, I turn and get my own plate. I stand and eat, barely tasting anything. I can feel the plastic texture of the icing, but that’s about it.
“I sometimes wonder why I’m alive. What’s the point of it?”
My fork clatters to the plate.Of course he’d go there.He needs to fall back on the only weapons in his arsenal to push me away. “Wondering what the point of life and living is from a philosophical standpoint, and wishing that you hadn’t been born are two very different things.”
“I don’t want to fuck everything up again.”
I set my plate down on the counter before I drop it. I gape at him, but he’s already facing the other direction. One handwraps around the mug and he takes a sip. It has to be scalding. “What do you mean fuck everything up?” Is that what he thinks?Why?
