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Her cheeks flushed and her mouth hungry, I told her, “You look alive to me.”
Defiantly, she lifted her chin. “Walking dead.”
I instantly thought of me, on the dance floor, the walking dead man. Then I thought of her comment in the broom closet. “I knew I was dying tonight…”
The fuck?
Surprisingly, I felt a trace of anger. “Why did you suspect you were dying tonight?”
Her anger matched mine. “I didn’t suspect anything.”
My head tilted. “But there is no way you could have known I’d enter this club—that all this would happen—” I glared at her. “You had something else planned, didn’t you?”
She demanded, “None-of-your-business.”
Elle tried to take a step back, but my arm, even as weak as it was, snatched her around her waist because it knew I had something worth holding on to for once. “I decide what’s my business.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I decide—”
“What? Who you marry?” I yanked her body flush with mine, feeling something dig into my leg. “What’s in your pocket?” Her loose pants were carrying the answer to my suspicion.
She pushed against my chest, but it was no contest. Injured, dying, exhausted… none of that helped her resist my strength, so she finally surrendered the fight, but not the attitude. Jaw locked, she sneered, “Let me go.”
“Too late for that shit. Hand it over.”
Body to body, face to face, her head tilted up to mine. She panted but stayed defiant, her little nostrils flaring.
I was the same—very moved by her so close—but pissed as I reached into her pocket to retrieve a bottle of pills. At the same time, I remembered her on the dance floor, sticking her hand into her pocket. Now I knew she had just bought them. It was easy to figure out when reading the prescription that wasn’t made out to Elle or Elleora.
I could have paid her the respect of asking, but we were past that. We were both caught in our own life-or-death situations. I was fighting to live; she was planning to die…
My stare bored into her with an unexpected rage. I growled, “We, the strong ones, don’t give up. Got it?”
She growled back, “You don’t know what you’re asking me to live through.”
“I’m not asking you to live through anything… but me.”
I slammed my mouth to hers.
Elle let me. Oh God, that woman let me into her soul and heart in one deep, passionate kiss… and she stole the spirit she claimed I had.
Our lips glued together by hopes and dreams neither of us had dared to wish for, her hand slipped out from between us and gripped the back of my neck, demanding more. Her five-hundred-dollar silk blouse pressed to my cut and wound, binding us with a blood oath, while her chest pressed to mine, letting our racing hearts find each other.
On this divine evening, another set of wise words blew through me. “If you ever find that rarity—that jewel that shines so bright, even if you don’t know why—don’t let go, kid. No matter what. No matter how hard she is to hold on to.
Coach.
Did I want to feel his horrid regret?
Hell no.
“See?” I kissed her savagely. “Your heart beats.” I wrapped my other arm, which no longer felt tired, around her waist and pulled, silently telling her I was never letting go.
In response, her fingers intertwined in my long blond hair and tightened, making a claim of her own. I groaned at her aggression, hoping she wasn’t going to fight me when I shoved her in whatever vehicle my pops pulled up in.
“Elle,” I moaned, “I’ll never kiss another set of lips.”
She kept kissing me. “We promised to not lie and set a brunch date.”
