‘Did it get better for you after what I did? Or did I make everything worse?’
‘Yes and no. Less pain. But no love. Not until my last family. They are good people.’
I love that she cares.
‘I thought about you all the time.’ A small smile lifts the corner of her mouth. ‘I tried so hard to find you.’
‘I know.’
She turns at that, brow furrowed.
‘The stones. I saw them in your room. You collected them over the years just like I did. When I saw them, I knew you hadn’t forgotten me.’
The furrow deepens.
‘Mmm, so youwerein my room? How?’
Shit a brick. Just give yourself away, you idiot.
The need to be close to her draws me deeper into the stack. Kat turns, her back taking the place of her fingers against the leather books. She blinks up at me, mascara-coated lashes framing the blue eyes I’ve dreamed of for so long.
‘Don’t worry about how. I’d never hurt you.’
God, I want to touch her so badly, to reach out and graze a thumb over those perfect pink lips.
‘You’ve gotten so big,’ she says softly.
‘So have you.’
Pink climbs her cheeks, and the flush makes me ache to hold her.
‘Still so like the girl I remember, though,’ I say. ‘Wild and doe-eyed.’
‘I’m not wild.’
‘Busting into your alley barefoot and waving a kitchen knife tells me otherwise.’
She shrugs and smiles, looking up at me with her lips, so pink and full.
‘I still feel like I’ve imagined you into being. Like if I blink, you’ll disappear. It’s why I can’t see your face.’
Fuck, it pains me to deny her the part of me she wants, but I’m still afraid that the reality of who I am will have her running. I need to give her something beyond a masked figurehead lurking at the edge of her eyesight.
‘Could your imagination do this?’
She tilts her head a touch, her lips parting.
I cover her eyes with one gloved hand, feeling her lashes flutter against the leather, pressing back to trap her against the books. She stills beneath my touch, but doesn’t tell me no. Doesn’t push my touch away. That alone is almost enough to undo me. She trusts me, despite my not being deserving of it.
‘Keep them closed.’ The way her throat bobs is delicious. Lord, I want to bite her pretty throat. To feel her pulse against my tongue.
I lift my mask with my other hand, just high enough to expose my mouth.
She smells like lemons and coffee, and I need to taste her.
I close the last of the distance between us, stopping to breathe her in as she gives the softest little whimper.
‘Kiss me,’ she demands, and I obey immediately.
