This Is War, Baby - K Webster Page 0,62

expressiveness in them from me. And her nose and cheeks change colors just enough to reveal her shyness. All in all, it’s fucking cute.

For two weeks now, our days have been predictable. We spend a good amount of time working together trying to make sense of what’s going on back in Oakland. Her dad still demands for her to come home, although less often and there is never any mention of her mom. He’s confirmed he’s receiving the payments but that’s all he’ll elaborate on. When we’re not focused on that, we hang out. Just as I originally bought her to do. But now, it’s becoming less about our negotiation and more about each other. Bottom line is, we have chemistry.

Too bad I can’t do anything about it.

So many times I’ve longed to reach across the chess board and stroke the back of her hand as she makes her move. I’ve caught my gaze lingering on her smooth, bare legs in the mornings when she’s still wearing her gown. And I can’t keep my eyes off her ass when she struts around the house in a pair of fitted jeans.

It’s her mouth, though, that I dream about day in and day out. The one kiss we shared was an accident and it damn near sent me over the edge but lately, it’s all I can think about. I’m too much of a pussy to broach the subject—to see if she’d let me try again. I know she would. I see the mutual glint of need in her eyes matching my own. Problem is, I don’t trust myself. I can’t guarantee that I won’t flip out on her again. This time, I believe it would hurt her feelings more so than the first time. And I don’t ever want to hurt her. Ever.

“Let me think,” she says softly and moves her pawn back. “War?”

I sit back in my chair and take in her new expression. Worried. Unsure. Something on the tip of her tongue.

“Yeah?”

“This is probably terribly rude but I need to ask.”

I swallow down the unease forming in my throat. Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t asked sooner.

“What did they diagnose you with?”

When I don’t answer, she moves her pawn instead of the queen and I’m once again baffled at her strategy. But I don’t stick around to question it. With a huff of frustration, I stand and stalk back toward my bedroom. We were having fun. I was focused on her. There wasn’t a need to start yanking out my skeletons for dissection.

“War!”

Ignoring her, I stomp into my room and slam the door. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t for her to sling the door open and charge over to me. When she grabs the back of my T-shirt and yanks it toward her, I freeze.

What the fuck is she doing?

“You can’t just run away in the middle of a conversation when you don’t like where it’s going,” she seethes.

My skin erupts into invisible hives that begin to burn and itch but I refrain from clawing at them. For the moment.

“Let me go.”

“Not going to happen until you tell me.”

I jerk away from her grasp and spin around to face her. I’m sure she’s taken aback by my furious glare because she stumbles back a step. Prowling toward her, I take satisfaction in the way she retreats until her back hits the wall. The craving to kiss her again is intense. Slamming both palms to the wall on either side of her head, I dip close to her and inhale her sweet scent.

She licks her lips and my cock thickens with need. My reactions to her are becoming more and more unpredictable. I’m not myself around her and that’s a good thing.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her hot breath upon my own lips.

Each breath is ragged and uneven. Nearly impossible to count or predict how many she’ll take in a minute.

“I’m dark inside. Ugly. And broken. Ruined. I don’t need labels to tell me that,” I hiss and lean into her another inch. So badly I want to scoop her into my arms and kiss her like she deserves to be kissed.

“I don’t think you’re any of those things,” she whispers. “In fact, I happen to think you’re a good man. Beautiful on the inside and out.”

I close my eyes and let her words wash over me. Jesus, I want to taste her again.

“Baylee.” Her name is a grunted prayer on my lips. “Will you kiss me