Seriously, what the hell was wrong with me?
Where was myself-control? My common sense? My ability to ignore the fact that the most beautiful man in the world was sitting in my living room?
Ah yes, that’s right. They’d fled somewhere around the time I’d poured that third glass of wine.
Crap.
I had to go back out there and regain control of the situation. I could totally do this — be his friend, without letting him see how much I still loved him. Pretend I felt nothing more than mutual respect. Restrain myself from staring at him like I’d given up ice cream for Lent and he was a large, delicious cone of mint chocolate chip, begging to be consumed.
Damn, Des had been right. I really was hungry. Even my mental metaphors had devolved to become food-oriented.
I scrambled to my feet and stared at my reflection in the mirror over the sink, trying to collect my thoughts. I reached up and pressed my fingertips against the still-swollen bags beneath each of my eyes. Staring into their cloudy grayish depths, I prayed for composure, straightened my shoulders, and shook my fingers through my hair from root to tip, as though I could somehow shake out my nerves.
When I stepped back into the studio, I saw immediately that Sebastian was no longer sitting on the couch. He was standing by the far wall with his back to me, examining my mosaic of research. I was silent as I approached him, coming to a stop by his side with a few feet left between us.
“What is this?” he asked, all laughter gone from his voice.
“It’s for a story,” I explained, my serious tone matching his. “It’s nothing.”
“This isn’t forLuster.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”
His eyes caught on the photo of Vera and me — our matching smiles stretching our cheeks so wide they’d ached with happiness, our arms looped around each other’s waists in an embrace, my silver bangle gleaming in the summer sunshine. Sebastian’s slow gaze migrated from the pinned photograph on the wall, down to where my wrist hung at my side. Its only adornment was the same beautiful thin bracelet I wore in the picture and, when his eyes came up to meet mine, I knew he’d figured out that my involvement in this story was more than that of a simple reporter.
“Why haven’t you gone to the police with this?” he asked.
My eyes moved up to examine the photo of Santos. “It’s complicated.”
“So un-complicate it.”
“I don’t want you to get involved,” I deflected, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s none of your business.”
“Jesus, I forgot how goddamn stubborn you are.” His tone was exasperated, and I’m sure if I’d looked, I’d find his expression matched it. “If this is dangerous, you shouldn’t be doing it alone.”
“Who says I’m doing it alone?” I countered maturely, using avoidance tactics a seven-year-old wouldn’t deign to. I stopped short of sticking out my tongue at him or tauntingnah-nah-nah-nah-poo-poo. How totally adult of me.
I suppose it was better than the alternative — better than admitting how terrified I’d become of this whole thing. The doubts were there, circling like wolves, ready to take me down. I was in over my head, and I knew it.I was scared for Vera’s safety and my own. I didn’t know what to do, or where to turn next. But if I let those fears in — if I let them take hold — I’d never be able to finish this investigation or do anything to change those missing girls’ fates.
“Lux, this isn’t a game. If this is what I think it is…” He looked over at me, concern furrowing his brow. “It’s dangerous. These aren’t good people.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I fired back, my eyes flashing as I thought of Vera. “Believe me, I know. But it’s none of your business. We aren’t dating. We aren’t even friends. Until twenty minutes ago, I’m pretty sure we hated one another. So please just leave it alone, Bash.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, if you don’t want my help, I’ll drop it. And you’re right — we aren’t dating and we aren’t friends. But you couldn’t be more wrong about that last part, Lux.”
I felt my eyes widen slightly and my breath caught as I waited for him to explain. He leaned in closer and when he whispered in my ear, his warm breath sent a small tremor through my entire body.
“See, I’m pretty sure you never hated me. In fact, I’m nearly positive of it.” His lips brushed my earlobe and I tried to keep my body completely still, my face clear of the emotions that were raging behind my mask of impassivity. My heart raced faster as he spoke on. “I wasn’t sure at first — I thought I might be imagining it, seeing things that weren’t there because I wished they were true. But now, after watching you for the last week, after sitting here with you, after laughing with you, after seeing the way you react when I do this…”
He pressed his lips against the sensitive hollow beneath my ear, his tongue flicking out to brush the skin in the briefest of caresses, and I couldn’t stop my reaction. It was involuntary — the instinctual arching of my spine, the slight tilting of my head to give his lips better access, the breathy gasp that escaped my mouth.
“Or this…” he breathed, his lips trailing down my neck to the ridge of my collarbone, where he pressed another openmouthed kiss. I whimpered slightly, cursing my wanton reaction internally but powerless to stop it.
“See, Lux, if you hated me, you wouldn’t tremble at the thought of touching my hand to take back your cellphone. You wouldn’t cast your eyes away, as though looking at me caused you acute pain. You wouldn’t smile at my jokes, or breathe in my laughter like you need it to keep on living.”
Damn. Apparently, he’d been paying pretty close attention — which meant I was royally screwed. I took a step away from him and ran my fingers through my hair, before opening my mouth to formulate a protest. I needed to be a minimum of three feet from him ifI wanted to be at all convincing or coherent — any closer and it seemed my mouth was more likely to produce a torrent of uncontrollable babble. Unfortunately, as I stepped back, he advanced on me, matching each of my strides and maintaining our close distance.
“You’re crazy,” I muttered.