Oh fucking hell. I shove away, but his ankleslock around my lower back. He's suction cupped to me like a damn octopus. Scowling, I try to peel him off while he grins like a maniac. He grabs my face and yanks me down so I have no choice but to look at him.
“I’ve been with people, get over it. But…” His hands slide into my hair. “It didn’t feel like this.”
His lips skim mine. I pull back again.
“What about with Andrea?”
He’s not laughing anymore. The pause is enough to make my heart plummet.
“She told you we kissed.”
I nod.
Fingertips trace my brow. Down the slope of my nose. Across the seam of my lips. Those eyes bore into me, unflinching. Not hiding the emotion swimming in them.
“She’s special,” he admits.
I can’t deny it.
“She is.” Gravel lines my throat. “But so are you.”
Which makes choosing impossible.
Thirty-Nine
ANDREA
This is punishment.It’s the only conclusion I can draw as I pace the confines of my room, reeling from the revelations of last night. Seba joining the church leadership is one thing, but his relationship with Cade? I’m an idiot for not putting the pieces together. My ignorance pisses me off more than their secret. What’s even stranger is I don’twantto come between them. But I can’t just be friends with them either. I want them both too much.
Which is exactly why I'm acting on this insane idea.
I stare at the message I’ve typed and re-typed at least fifty times. It’s probably all for nothing. Cade hasn’t answered any of my other texts this week. Hopefully, he doesn’t ignore me this time.
We need to talk.
Alone.
I stare at the screen until the two check marks appear. Typing bubbles dance in the bottom corner. My heart stops.
Cade:
Open your window in 5
Holy. Shit.
Heresponded.
I rush to the window, kneeling on the velvet cushion to unlatch it. I’m a jittery mess. Time drags on. Glancing at the ancient alarm clock on my nightstand, I see it’s been approximately two minutes.
Two taps on the glass.
Whipping around, I come face to face with Cade: cheeks flushed, eyes wide and grinning. He looks a little deranged and utterlybreathtaking.
“Get in,” I hiss, ushering him into the room. Baggy jeans hang low enough to show the band of his boxers and a faded grey t-shirt stretches across his chest. His head tilts, the little diamond stud in his nose twinkling in the warm light of the frosted glass lamp.
Goddamnit.I get it, Seba.
I launch at him.
