Thief:A Bad Boy Romance(279)

 

“Uh, sure?” No, bad idea, bad fucking idea asshole! I’ve been around enough girls in this exact same precursor to a mistake to know what “do you want to go for a walk” means. But when she stands and offers her hand, I’m still grabbing ahold and getting up to following her as she leads us away from the crowd. I follow her up the staircase and down the hallways, and I almost want to say some quip about ‘interesting walk, up here where your bedroom probably is’ but I don’t because that would be crass, and that’s something I’m working on.

 

But we don’t go to her room anyways. We end up in the huge second floor library that’s practically two stories in itself. She’s running her fingers over the spines of leather books, almost wistfully, and when she looks back over her shoulder at me and smiles, I’m lost. She opens the double doors at the end of the room to the private stone terrace and steps out.

 

Idiot; you fucking asshole idiot this is such a dumb fucking move.

 

I need to leave. What I should be doing is turning right around and heading right back to that crowd of mourners downstairs morning my friend and her Father. But instead, I follow her out into the night air.

 

She takes a deep breath and lets her head drop back as she stares up at the stars, and she’s so fucking beautiful and so fucking sad standing there that I want to put my arms around her and tell her I’m here, but I know I can’t and shouldn’t do that; not here, not now, not ever.

 

“It’s nice out here; nice and quiet.” She turns and smiles at me; “Sorry, I just couldn’t be in there anymore.”

 

I shrug; “I don’t really do crowds either.”

 

She smiles and turns, and walks over to the stone balcony on the edge of the terrace. I’m tongue tied; me, for the first time ever at a loss of what to say; “He was a great-”

 

“I don’t really want to talk about my Father right now.”

 

She turns, her hands behind her as she leans back on the balcony, looking perfectly broken and like the perfect fix all tossed into one beautiful package. She smiles at me and bites her lip in this sexy, innocent way as she slowly raises one of her hands from behind her and starts to beckon me with one finger.

 

No. Stop. Stop it.

 

But I’m ignoring that voice inside my head as I walk in slow motion towards her. It’s like I’m walking underwater, in a dream, as I put one foot in front of the other, and before I know it I’m standing right in front of her. Her eyes are huge, and blue, and looking up at me with such sadness and such determination, and I can smell the lavender of her shampoo in her hair, and before the world can move another inch across it’s starry path, I’m kissing her. It’s fire, and passion, and it’s everything I’ve ever imagined kissing someone who matters feels like, and it’s like my whole life gets hit with a reset button; like I know after this I can start clean.

 

She moans into my mouth, the sound both soft and completely sexy at the same time, and I find myself growling as I push myself against her. Her hands are at my neck, pulling at my tie and unbuttoning my shirt, and my hand is sliding over her thigh. I’m pushing her dress higher, feeling her shiver and whimper into me as my hand trails up until I feel lace, and heat, and-

 

Protect them.

 

The words hit me like slap across the face. Fuck; I can’t do this. I want to do this with every single fiber of everything I am, but what the fuck am I doing?

 

I pull away from her; “Wait, hang on,” She’s leaning forward to kiss me again and I draw back further; “Reagan, hold on.”

 

“What?” She’s looking at me like she messed up; like it’s her that’s doing something wrong, and that look just kills me.

 

“I-” What, tell her I can’t do this? Tell her it is her? Yeah, no, fuck that; I’m not doing that to her. “I- I just need to go get something for a sec.”

 

She gives me a strange, nervous look as she bites her lip; “Oh-”

 

Ah, shit, she thinks-

 

“Ok, there might be one in my sister’s room, in the bedside table.” She looks so shy, so innocent, and so on the verge of breaking, and it’s giving me the fuel I need to walk away. I can’t let her get into me; can’t let her touch the wreck I am inside. Reset button? How fucking delusional am I? I’m broken, and in the way that can’t be fixed.

 

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you soon.”

 

And then I’m walking away; walking away from the one girl in the world I can’t get out of my head and regretting it and hating every step I take as I let the terrace and her and the memory of that one perfect moment in time slip away behind me.