Page 115 of Hounded
My face stung with angry heat, and I stomped my foot again.
“God, you’re infuriating!” I exclaimed. “Will you talk to me? Loren!”
At that, he drew up short. His chest heaved with scarcely controlled breaths, and his dark eyes were intense as they fixed on mine.
My brow furrowed. “You look like shit.”
His expression stayed stony as he replied, “It’s been a rough few days.”
“It’s beentendays,” I corrected. “You and I have very different definitions of how long it takes to ‘be right back.’”
During that time, my emotions ran the gamut from wounded and confused to angry and annoyed. I told myself I hoped this stoic son of a bitch never came back. That I wished he’d never shown up in the first place. That I hadn’t heard him say he loved me. That it hadn’t hurt so badly when he said he regretted it.
But he was sad and seeing that reminded me of the pictures on his cellphone. There was a gallery of awkward smiles, blush-stained cheeks, and stolen kisses. He wasn’t always sad; I made him happy. I wanted to make him happy now and, as mad as I should have been, I felt more concerned than anything.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He paused for so long that I wondered if he would answer until finally, he shook his head.
I ventured forward to inspect his face. Pinkish lineslike cat scratches marred his cheeks and neck and sparked a simmering rage I didn’t fully understand.
“What happened?” I wanted to reach for him but kept my hands at my sides. “Did somebody hurt you?”
“I did.” His eyes dropped to the ground between us.
The need to be close to him was inexplicable. Like I’d learned nothing from being repeatedly rebuffed over the last few weeks. My fingers twitched toward him, but I tightened my fists.
“How?” I asked. “Why?”
Loren, similarly, braced himself. His features hardened, and his voice was gruff as he asked, “Do you want to ride in the truck or trailer?”
It was another rejection, and it stung. I barely knew him. Why was I so obsessed with him? Was I that lonely?
At the very least, I was desperate enough thatIsounded like the crazy one when I crossed my arms and huffed. “Truck. If you’re gonna abduct me, we’re at least going to talk about it.”
I started to storm past him but took only a step before he caught my elbow.
My gaze traveled from his hand to his face—how many times had I dreamed about that face?—and neither of us moved. Loren’s lips fell apart, and I thought he would speak. Explain, for the love of god but, instead, he pulled me in.
I fell against his chest, enveloped in his warmth and stunned silent when I felt the way he held me. Like I was porcelain. Like I was the most precious thing in the world. His long fingers cradled my head, and his body curved against mine.
It was the same when he kissed me. Profound. So much deeper than I knew how to feel.
I didn’t pull back until he did. Then it was my turn to catch his hands.
“Hey.” I squeezed his fingers. “It’s okay.”
His dark eyes gleamed with moisture that he quickly blinked away. “It’s not.”
Our hands were still clasped, and I brushed a thumb over his knuckles. I hesitated on his left ring finger as though I expected to find something there. It was as bare as it had always been, but I rubbed it extra anyway.
“Then it’s gonna be,” I told him. “After you get me some dinner because mine’s on the floor inside.” I tipped my head toward the closed trailer door.
His shoulders relaxed, and that small success sparked joy in me. Like the visions I chased when I took Chaz’s pills, the feeling was familiar and left me longing for more.
I’d learned not to press, so I cleared the lump from my throat and asked, “Where are we going?”
He led me toward the idling truck. Opening the passenger door, he helped me up the step side before mumbling a reply. “That’s up to you, Doll.”
