14
Something isn’t right. It isn’t the smell of coffee or the voices in the room with me, it isn’t the familiar scent of Lex’s aftershave or the soft sheets beneath my body, it’s the steady presence at my back. The soft hand on my body, the feel of another person breathing behind me, the steady rise and fall of their chest pressing into my spine.
No.
This isn’t right. My eyelids feel heavy as I try to open them, the burning light coming in through a window right in front of me scolding my retinas. What the fuck? There’s a window? Daylight and trees and grass.
I curl my fingers, feeling the soft cotton yield under my grip and squint, trying to get a look of the room without notifying anyone around me that I’m awake. My skin feels too tight for my bones and my throat is dry, but I don’t dare move or make a sound. The walls are white with a pair of navy curtains hanging at the window, the bedside table is one I recognize, dark colored with a lamp on the top and drawers. Everything is so similar. Is this just another way for Valentine to torture me? Give me what I want only to burn it to the ground later.
Footsteps sound, heading away from me and then a door is closed, the soft click making me jump where I lay, still with that body pressed behind me.
A few beats of silence where the only sound in the room is my frantic breathing but then that rough voice is whispering against my ear, the hint of mint brushing against my nose.
“I know you’re awake, little bird.”
My heart stops beating, the breath ceasing to continue as I push away from where I’m led on my side to position myself onto my back, it hurts and my skin pulls and twinges with the movement but nothing right now is going to stop me from seeing the face behind me.
I swallow as I start at his clothed legs, dressed in a pair of black suit trousers, his ankles crossed and then work my way up to where his black shirt is tucked into the pants, a black belt with a silver buckle holding it together. I follow the line of the buttons before they stop, creating a V to reveal the hard expanse of his chest, prominently lined muscles and bronzed skin, and then further up his throat, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. The hard line of his jaw twitches as he grits his teeth and then I see his mouth.
His beautiful, dangerous mouth, set in a straight line.
When I meet his eyes the whole world stops. Silver orbs bore down into me, filled with so much emotion it gives me whiplash. I’ve never seen him reveal so much in his face, but it’s there, as if it’s typed into his skin with ink. Pain. Regret. Fear.
His eyes bounce between mine, but this can’t be real, can it?
His dark hair is slicked back away from his face, but one tendril falls across his forehead which creases with a frown as he looks at me.
Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?
His finger comes up to caress the side of my face, the very tip, following the line of my cheek, across my jaw until it brushes over my bottom lip.
“Lex?”
One side of his mouth tips up, “Hello, Little Bird.”
Fuck the pain. Fuck the obvious injuries, I scramble, trying to get to my knees but his firm hand holds me down, pinning me in place.
“Let me up!”
This earns me a grin as he flips himself, getting to his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He cages me between his arms, face hovering above mine.
“I’ve missed you little bird and I’ve never missed anything in my entire life.”
“Kiss me damn it!”
His eyes bounce between mine but whatever he was looking for he must find because his mouth crashes down on mine possessively. His hands may be gentle, he may be holding himself away from my body but his mouth is not in any way soft as his tongue pushes in through my lips. Fuck he tastes good.
It’s been too long.
I never thought I’d miss the man, I didn’t even think I’d ever need a man, but I needed him. I needed him as much as I needed air to fill my lungs. We’re inexplicably linked, his demons and his darkness caressed my soul.
He rips himself away, practically throwing himself off the bed to get away from me, but I just lay there. Part of me believes this is still a dream, still a nightmare but my swollen lips, the wetness there transferring to my fingertips as I brush my fingers across my mouth seem all too real.
I find him breathing heavy at the edge of the bed, “Don’t do that again.”
“What?”
“You’re injured, Wren, this,” he points between us, “This ain’t happening.”