But I was too selfish to listen.Father isn’t the savior he pretends to be,Hale ranted to me once.What’s really going on? It’s bad, Frey. It’s bad.
Not long after, he ended up dead.
Daze should react just like everyone else. Roll his eyes and tell me I’m foolish. Dramatic. Paranoid.
I’ve heard it all before.
“That fucking sucks, Blondie,” he bellows on a sigh, so heavy. So real. He’s not joking now. Instead, he kicks his heels against the floor, sending up tiny waves of dust. “That fucking sucks...”
“So, what now?” I gesture between us with a trembling hand. “Do we hold hands? Pray? Do you cut and run?”
I insisted Colton do the first two options when he made us kiss.
“I could,” he says, nodding. Sweat glues his hair to his shoulders, and I lose track of the conversation the longer I stare. God, the man is a canvas of tattoos. In addition to the artwork on his back, his chest is a collage of skulls and letters. Names.
“Samuel,” I read, too curious to keep from reaching out to finger the name written on the center of his chest, right over his heart. “Someone I should know about?”
He brushes my hand aside. “Don’t tell meyou’rethe one wanting to cut and run. Don’t go hunting for shit to get upset over.” He sighs and rolls onto his back, eyeing the ceiling. “You want to leave—you leave. You want to stay—you stay.”
Hunting.Is that what I’m doing? I eye my outstretched fingers and curl them one by one into a fist. Then I shift to copy him, lying on my back.
I don’t know how long we lie like this.
Too long.
My eyes are fluttering open when I regain my senses again. Alarm slams into me, making me scramble upright. Did I fall asleep?
I did…and he’s still sleeping. God, it’s so unfair for someone so abrasive to be so beautiful. Ignore the sweat and grime, and his body could be an exhibit in some weird art gallery focusing on tattoos. I start to touch one—an intricate design spanning his hip—only to stop myself halfway. My finger trembles inches from his skin before I finally force myself to bridge the gap and touch him.
I’m already too far gone to start using my common sense now. Rock meet bottom.
I trace the design with the tip of my nail, following the curves up and around to the flat of his stomach. Then down, grazing his pelvis. It isn’t long before I realize that he isn’t sleeping anymore—at least, one part of his anatomy is very much awake. He’s so big.Thick. I try to ignore it, teasing his skin like a game of hide and seek. The longer I explore, the easier it is to escape logic, panic, and the ache between my legs demanding I remember what he felt like inside me.
I switch to another tattoo over his ribcage, but as I crest the ridge of his chest, I notice that a pair of gray eyes are intently watching my every move. The moment our gazes connect, he grabs my wrist, pulling my hand away.
“Damn, girl,” he says thickly.
It’s strange how those two words convey more than most people I know can say in a million meaningless sentences.Damn, it’s early. Damn, I’m tired. Damn…you’re pushing me too far.
He tugs until I settle down beside him. “It sounds like the world’s ending out there.”
“Huh?”
He inclines his head to the nearest wall. “Listen.”
I strain my ears and catch the hint of police sirens and wailing firetrucks. Strange. I’d been so wrapped up in his body that I didn’t even notice.
“It’s probably an accident,” Daze says. He still has my wrist in his grasp, and lifts it, observing my fingers and the thin bones in my wrist. “Either that or you got way more attention than you bargained for, princess. Your rich father probably sent out the swat team, looking for you.”
I swallow hard, alarmed by how accurately he has me pinned down just from a few snippets of information. I watched you,he said, referring to how long I stood at the bridge. But what if he meant longer?
No.I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away.I’m being paranoid.
“Maybe he did,” I admit to him out loud. “But his perfect daughter being found in a place like this would bring the wrong kind of attention. It would play better to his optics if he could say I was kidnapped, missing, or dead.”
I mean it to come across as a joke. A morbid one, maybe.
Daze stiffens and releases my wrist. Then he turns away so I can’t see his face. “You hate him that much?” he wonders, and I can sense the disgust in his tone. “I’ve been a pity fuck before, but never a revenge fuck.”