Journey watching me. Her eyes move from mine to my lips. “When?”
“When you saw him kiss me,” she whispers, as if she doesn’t want anyone to hear her. She even does a quick sweep over the bar before adding, “I didn’t think he would do that.”
I laugh lightly, resting my elbows on the counter. I stare at the empty glass in front of me when I tell her, “I was telling myself to not come in the bar.”
Our eyes meet. “But you did.”
“It seems—through great debate on my part—I don’t want to leave you alone.”
She laughs, her cheeks pinker now, happily existing in this moment. “You’re so weak.”
No, you’re weak, and I’m only destroying what’s left. “Oh yeah?”
She nods. “You have no self-control.”
I arch an eyebrow, possessiveness coursing through me again. “Where’d you get the mark on your shoulder?”
Her eyes drift to her shoulder, her body involuntarily leaning toward me. “Some guy. He wanted to taste me.”
“I want to do more than taste you,” I assure her. I want to keep you. And I want to forget you exist in this world.
She makes me believe love still exists in this world and I’m a born-again believer I can taste it again.
“I can’t wait to see what you have in mind,” she breathes, her half-lidded eyes intent on mine. Journey’s mouth falls open like she’s going to say more.
I cut her off with “You keep talking like that, and we’re not making it to a bed.”
Her smile makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the heart. “Where’s the problem with that?”
“I’d like to have you all to myself, not surrounded by others, or on my boat,” I whisper, clearing my throat and leaning back. If I don’t, I’m going to kiss her. Right here. And I might not be able to stop myself.
Her posture straightens, and she moves toward the girls. I don’t pay attention to what they do or say, but in the next minute, she’s on the other side of the bar standing next to me. With her bag on her shoulder, she places her hand on mine. “Let’s go.”
I twist to face her, ignoring the questioning looks we get. “You don’t have to stay until closing?”
“I spend the majority of my life here. Leaving a few minutes early won’t hurt.”
The bartender with blonde hair smiles. “Stay out of trouble, kids.”
Journey ignores them, tucking her hand inside of mine.
Her touch makes me feel like I’m being skinned alive, her warmth swallowing me whole. I tell myself this will be the last time. I’ll let her go after this, but you and I both know I’m a liar. We walk in silence up the road. The night’s clear, a vast difference from rain earlier.
Beside me, Journey lets go of my hand, stepping off the sidewalk and staring up at the freckled stars scattering the sky. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket, fearing holding her hand again. My shoulder bumps hers, and she sighs. Our eyes meet in the darkness, and hers light up the night. She’s beautiful in the moonlight, and I’m stumbling, unable to make sense of what’s happening to me, but knowing damn well it has everything to do with her.
We wordlessly enter my dad’s house. I place my fingers to my lips, reminding her to be quiet, and she follows. It feels wrong to have her here, but I can’t deny I want this. My intention obvious when my hand finds the space on her lower back, and I lead her to my room. Pausing at Atlas’s room, I nod to mine at the end of the hall. “Last door on the left,” I whisper. “I’ll be right there.”
She walks ahead of me, and I watch her, my head resting against the doorframe. I fight through emotions I don’t understand. Ones that beg me to tell her the truth and ones that feed the need to keep her safe from a reality she doesn’t know exists outside of what we’re doing. This place, it’s good, erotic, and so fucking tempting. I’d bottle it and sell it as forever, but I know it won’t last. Not with the way I’ve gone about it. And that’s the part that tears at my heart. The notion that it all could have been avoided, had I never come here.
Atlas is half on the mattress, half off, sleeping as wildly as he plays during the day. Pushing his leg up on the bed, I drape the blanket