“I don’t blame him –” I ignored Indy too.
“Stel a, honey bunches of oats –” Daisy tried to cut in, she was looking over her shoulder.
I ignored her too and went on, “Not for leaving me, I get it. But he’s like my Mom, my Dad too. I don’t blame them either. But I’l never forgive them. Not ever.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Jet breathed and the way she did it made me focus.
I saw that now everyone was looking in the same direction. My head turned to see what they were al staring at and it was Mace standing in the doorway. He had his shoulder leaned against the jamb, his arms crossed on his chest, his feet crossed at the ankles and his eyes on me.
He’d been there awhile.
Effing hel .
Al air evacuated my body and I stared at him.
Do you think he heard? My brain asked me.
“Come here,” Mace said to me.
Yep, he heard.
Queen of Super Shitty Luck strikes again!
I shook my head at Mace.
“Kitten, come here.” His voice was ultra-deep, low, soft and he was looking at me in a way… in a way…
I closed my eyes tight and shook my head again.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw him uncross his arms and ankles. He pushed away from the door and my body went tense.
“You can come here or I can come get you,” he stated.
“I –” I started to say but didn’t move. Apparently my non-movement was answer enough for Mace. His long legs took him across the room in no time. He got close, leaned in, his hand grabbed mine, his hold firm; he yanked me out of my seat to my feet and pul ed me out of the room.
“Oh lordy,” I heard Stevie say from behind me.
“Sugar, that ain’t the half of it,” Daisy added and she sounded excited.
Shitsofuckit!
Mace took me through the house and back to the room we’d slept in. I didn’t protest or struggle. So, he heard.
Maybe a little, maybe a lot. So what? Nothing had changed.
Right?
He hauled me in the room, stopped, closed the door and then turned back to me. His hand holding mine drew me near, nearer, nearer. He dropped my hand and both of his came to my waist. They slid around to my back and he started to pul me close.
Okay, it was safe to say something definitely had changed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice breathy, my brain rethinking my decision not to protest or struggle. I had my head tipped back and was staring at his face.
His eyes weren’t blank but broody; they were intense and active.
I put my hands on his chest and he stopped pul ing me close. I figured this was mainly because he couldn’t get me closer without me moving my hands. Our bodies were pressed together, Mace looking down at me from his height, six inches tal er than me (this, for your information, was another of those seven hundred, twenty-five thousand things I missed most about him, him being so tal , since I was also tal , it made me feel petite and protected).
I was beginning to find it hard to breathe.