“Where’sthecraziestplace you’ve had sex?"
James stopped mid-chew, jaw rolling tight and his golden eyes souring. Though, the bitter pool of lightened color wasn’t sour with hostility or outrage like I’d seen during this last week.
Punishment was the culprit pulling a blanket over his eyes for asking a question he wished he could stuff back inside my mouth.
I took another generous bite of my buttered toast to muffle my smile.
After an amusingly heavy silence, James resumed chewing his bite of omelet.
“I’m not answering that.”
“Why not?” Swallowing, I cupped my fingers between the stem of my champagne glass and readied to pour back a sip of mimosa. “Are you afraid my answer will be better than yours?”
Raising his own champagne flute to his mouth, he grumbled into it, “No, I’m afraid for my fucking sanity if we have this conversation.”
With a cocked head, I watched the easy rhythm of his Adam’s apple move beneath his smooth skin as he swallowed one gulp and then a second. He was trying to drown back how much he actually wanted to know my answer, but it was a lucky thing for him I had no intention of letting his curiosity suffocate.
“My answer is a church, so don’t be embarrassed if you can’t beat it.”
James nearly choked on his mimosa, eyelashes fluttering fast as he pulled his drink away.
“You’ve had sex in a church?”
“Two, actually. Once in one of the back offices during a service. Once in a confessional.”
He poised a curious look at my second offering. “Are you Catholic?”
I clicked my tongue. “I was that day.”
There wasn’t much in this part of town, but the checkout clerk from our motel had been able to point us in the direction of this quaint corner cafe for some late morning brunch.
After last night, I was surprisingly hungry. Ravagingly hungry.
James and I sat outside at a tiny wire-rimmed table at the back of the cafe, filling our stomachs with food and bubbles and carrying on as if we’d never skipped a beat or filled that missing beat with murder.
It should have felt weird.
I should have felt sick.
Instead, all I felt was James.
He was inside my veins, running beneath my skin in a constant glorious hum. There was only the hum and nothing else. No pain. No panic. No fucking fire. All morning I’d been able to breathe, been able to walk around with air in my lungs instead of flames because James kidnapped my fire last night and hadn’t returned it yet.
He was keeping it locked up somewhere behind his honeysuckle eyes and straps of brawny muscles. All night and all morning, there hadn’t even been an attempted spark from it. It was too fucking scared to attack while James was sitting so near, and I caught myself smiling twice already today.
Smiling. Just because.
“You’re for sure going to hell for that.” He set his drink down, exchanging it out for a piece of thick juicy bacon from his plate. Grease caught the glint of sunlight, bouncing off the meat and straight to my tastebuds.
Reaching across our little table, I picked it out of his fingers and shoved it between my teeth. “I’m going to hell for a lot of other sins worse than fucking in God’s house.”
“Is thievery on that list?”
Flashing my stare up, James was watching me munch his bacon with flattened amusement. And because I was warm in his presence instead of burning up, I smiled. Again.
“That wasn’t stealing.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but his browline got even flatter across.