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When I look up, I find her staring at me, her jade eyes wide, a light flush staining her cheeks.
Then she glances away and bites on her lower lip.
This is fucked up. I shouldn’t be wanting her now. I shouldn’t wanna kiss her, tug that full lower lip between my teeth, smooth my hands over her silky skin, under her clothes, pleasure her.
Fuck, and now I’m hard. I’m kneeling on the floor in front of her, and I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my life.
Why do I feel so attracted to her—so protective of her? I can’t blame the kiss we shared. I’ve kissed girls before. I want to run my hands over all the freckles on her body, kiss every part of her.
She lifts her hand, pushes my hair off my face, then runs her fingers through my short spikes. Tugs on them, until I’ve laid my cheek on her lap.
What’s happening? Why am I letting this happen?
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispers. “Sorry for what I said.”
“About?” I clutch the hem of her shorts and breathe in her scent.
“About not caring.”
Ah fuck. I close my eyes, groan quietly. She’s killing me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, right now, with my head in her lap and her hand in my hair.
But I can’t stay.
When I pull away, the look on her face shatters me. I get up anyway, prepare to go, but have to stand at the sink for a long moment, hands braced on the cool porcelain, to try and gather my thoughts.
She gets up and puts her arms around my waist, and I let my head hang. Can’t let her get under my skin. Can’t afford to need her. Or anyone.
“Don’t go, Kash,” she murmurs against my back.
“You don’t need me.”
“And if I do? If we all do?”
“You don’t.”
I think of Nate, of the bruises and the hidden truths, and my lungs constrict. I bow over the sink, gasping. No, I can’t. I can’t fight this battle for him. Or Sydney, or West.
“Kash…”
“No.” I push violently away from the sink and walk out of the bathroom, my heart banging about in my chest. “No, Red.”
“Wait.”
But I don’t stop. I need air. Somehow I make it out of her apartment, but I don’t head to Nate’s apartment. Can’t face anyone now, so I take the stairs down and spill out onto the street and start walking.
Fuck. Fuck! I slam my hand over my chest, over my lungs, to get the damn things working again. I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t give a shit.
“Kash. Kash, wait!” By the time I turn into a side street, she’s managed to snag my hand and is jogging alongside me. “Where are you going?’
There’s a sandwich place around the corner, with a long bench outside. I head there and sink down on the bench, pulling my hand free to wrap both arms around my middle.
“What’s wrong?”
I don’t trust my voice. I pull out my pouch and try to roll a cigarette. She watches my shaky fingers, a frown on her bruised face.
“Is that why you smoke? It helps?”
I just roll the damn cigarette, light up and get up to walk away from the shop so the smell won’t give me away.
