involuntary reaction of pupil dilation is mesmerizing. In the time it takes him to blink, a galaxy of colors dances across his irises: jade and brown and every flavor of blue, from summer rain to the midnight flash of moonlight on ocean waves.
I’ve got him on his back before he can register what’s happened. “This is your downfall, right here,” I say tauntingly. I squeeze my thighs on either side of him and he bites his lip. “You’re supposed to be pissed off, not turned on.”
“I can be both. You’re not the boss of me.”
“I could get used to this Nicholas,” I say, toying with him. “You’re actually present.” Unlike the way he was the last few times we slept together, barely looking at me. He hates how excited he is right now and can’t figure out which emotion he wants to let lead the charge. For logical, practical Nicholas who must keep his head in every situation, lust is terrifying.
“I’m always present,” he bites out. “You’re the one who’s never present.”
I ignore him, stroking his cheek. The atmosphere quivers, stretched so tight I could tap thin air and hear the resounding thump of a bass drum.
“You feel alive,” I say. I lay my palm over his pounding heart. “Yes, very alive, like a real human man. I wouldn’t have known it, since you never touch me. Have you forgotten how?”
He cups a palm around the back of my neck and simply rests it there, reminding me he could change the score at any moment if he wished it.
“Tell me you’re sorry and I’ll let you find out.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Your half.” His chest rises and falls deeply. I recognize all the signs, but it’s as if they’re from another life, they’ve been lying dormant for so long. I keep finding myself wondering, When’s the last time I saw this Nicholas? because I’m forgetting that this Nicholas is new to me. He’s uncharted territory. I want to explore the parts that are a surprise and punish him for the reincarnated parts he’s trying to bring with him from his old life with the old Naomi. They don’t belong here.
“My half,” I repeat, sitting up straighter. I feel him beneath me and it’s been so long; anything we’ve done in the last few months doesn’t count. The last time we had sex, the space between us was dead air, unbroken by any emotion whatsoever—not love, not attraction, not tension. Right now, two out of three ain’t bad. My body wants to trickle into liquid and spill forth all over him, but I venture to say, “Half of what?”
“Of what went wrong.”
I swallow. It feels like someone’s scratched my throat with talons. “We were never right to begin with.”
He arches a brow. “No?”
“No. Changeling Naomi is the same person as First Date Naomi, just with all the shiny new penny rubbed off. We got too used to the best version of each other, so neither of us ever got to relax and show our normal selves. We’ve been hiding.”
He stares up at me from the floor. He’s slack-jawed but his muscles are strung tight. When he finally speaks, what he says catches me off-guard. “Who texted your phone?”
Before I can answer, he gently places a hand over my mouth. His skin is warm and smells like my conditioner. It’s been a long time since he’s slipped his fingers through my hair long enough for the scent to wear off on him. It’s been a lifetime since we’ve smelled or tasted like each other. Been hungry for each other.
“Tell me, please?” His voice is velvety and compelling. Dangerous. “Be honest and you can have whatever you want.”
He lets his hand fall from my mouth. I’m reeling. I think he might be laying a trap. Either that or I’m paranoid after laying so many traps of my own. Traps are all I see now.
“No one texted me. Who would? The only ones who text me are you and Brandy, and Brandy’s busy with orientation at her new job.”
“Can I see your phone, then?”
I bristle. “No. It’s private.”
“Even from me? I’d let you see mine.”
I don’t believe that for a minute. “So? I wouldn’t ask to see yours. Your phone is none of my business.”
“I am your business.” He sits up, bringing our faces closer together. I slide off his lap immediately and insert a healthy amount of room between us. “Or I’m supposed to be.”
“You don’t trust me,” I say.
“You don’t trust me, either.”
We watch