Laylen covers my mouth with his hand and puts a finger up to his lips, shushing me. “If he knows I’m in here, then he’ll know something’s up.”
“So what,” I whisper back, my voice muffled against his palm. “What’s he going to do?”
Laylen aims me a “really” look. “Get pissed off. Not let you go with me. Lock you in a cellar and never let you out just so no one else can touch you.” At the end his lips tug upward. “You know how he is with you.” He removes his hand from my mouth.
I frown. He’s right. If Alex finds out about this, he won’t let me go. Besides, I’m not even sure I can trust him. “Yeah, I know.”
Alex bangs on the door again. “Gemma, can you open the door?”
I feel the prickle emerge on the back of my neck, begging me to open the door and let him in; allow him to see me with Laylen and think something’s going on. I might have to, but Laylen abruptly gets up from the bed, drops down to his hands and knees and crawls underneath the bed.
I watch him with wide eyes as I scramble to my feet. “Seriously? You’re going to hide under the bed?”
“Just pretend I’m not here,” he whispers as the last of his legs vanish.
I stand there, stunned, feeling like I’m a teenager hiding my boyfriend from my parents, only I never really had that experience since I’d never had a boyfriend or parents.
Alex knocks on the door again and a breath eases out of my mouth before I walk over to open it up. The second I see him, my emotions entwine together into a very perplexing knot, even though it’s only been like an hour since I last saw him. I don’t understand why it happens, why I’m so turned onto him when he infuriates me to no end. I’m seriously starting to wonder if because of all those years trapped in an unemotional state, my body and head are now broken, unable to deal with the newfound emotions recently piled onto me.
He looks very uncomfortable for some reason, however the black mark looks like its fading. “Took you long enough.”
“I thought you were leaving,” I retaliate, leaning against the open door, aiming for nonchalant, but it comes off a little twitchier than I planned.
His eyes narrow, patronizing me. “Now why would I do that?”
“Because you said you would,” I reply simply.
He braces his hands on the doorway, invading my comfort zone and my gaze zeros in on his solid stomach muscles as his shirt rides up. “Well, you’re the one who kept insisting I was a liar. I’m just living up to my reputation, something I’m really good at.”
I try not to stare at his muscles, but thoughts of how they moved as he thrust inside me haunt my mind. I’m still not sure how I feel about having sex, or if I feel anything other than confusion. I wonder if that’s normal.
“Did you need something?” I shake my head at the unevenness of my voice.
He elevates his brows with suspicion. “You’ve been up here forever. What have you been doing?”
I gesture at my new outfit. “Changing.”
His eyes scan down my body, warming every single inch of my skin. His eyes linger a little too long on my chest area then finally land on my eyes and I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.
“You look good,” is all he says.
“Um… thanks, I guess,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest.
His lips smash together as he deliberates something. Then he steps toward me, taking me by surprise as he lines his body with mine and I have no choice except to back up against the door. Fireworks of heat erupt as he pins my shoulders between his arms, his hands resting beside my head.
“Gemma, I don’t want to fight with you,” he says gently, changing his attitude in the snap of a finger. I’m beginning to understand that he’s good at doing that. “I didn’t… I didn’t work to save you only so we could sit here and argue with each other.”
His sincerity is puzzling since he’s not much of a sincere type of guy. My eyes drift to his head at the dissolving black spot, the brand of his supposed good deed.
“Did it hurt?” I ask. “When it bounced back on you?”
He rolls his tongue in his mouth, like he’s restraining a laugh. “Not too bad, but I’m good at handling pain, much more than other things.”
“What about the non-pain part of it?” With each ravening breath I take, my chest brushes against his.
He shakes his head and his forehead brushes against mine. We’re almost pressing against each other, but there’s still a sliver of space between our bodies, a boundary we need at the moment, until some sort of trust can be established.