Page 57 of Wild Card

“You need to leave.” I kept my arms folded across my chest, looking up at the ceiling.

“No.” He let out a heavy sigh, settling into my side.

Frustration and something like relief sailed through me at a frantic pace. This wasn’t good for my heart.

“Decker, I’m serious. You’ve ignored me for an entire week and only came around once I said you could hang with Taylor…this is fucking crazy. You can’t be in my bed right now.”

His body shifted, curling around mine, pulling me closer to his chest.

“I know, and I need to explain myself. I know I do…but let me do it right. Let me look you in the eye and tell you how I feel without bedsheets between us.”

I laughed, rubbing my eye. “Great, then you can sleep on the floor, or go home and see me tomorrow.”

Was he shaking? His body seemed to vibrate next to me as he waited to respond. I was tempted to move my face so I could see his eyes. They always told me what his voice wouldn’t.

Finally, after a few silent beats, he breathed slowly through his nose. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he should breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“I know the right thing would be to do what you’re asking me to do. I know you deserve a gentleman who’d respect your space and what you’re asking…but I’m not a gentleman. I’m a devil, through and through. I can’t be away from you tonight. I need to feel your skin, hear your heart…feel the heat from your fucking breath…” He propped his head up on his elbow, looking down at me. “I’m not leaving you. I won’t touch you or do anything at all to you…I just need to be near you tonight.”

Well fuck.

Butterflies, pterodactyls, and fucking bats were set loose in my chest at his admission. I’d let the suckers fight it out while I turned away from him to get some sleep. I was past fighting him on this. I just wanted to forget.

“Fine.” I made a point to let out an irritated sigh. “But I’m keeping my sweats on.”

“I’ll literally cut them off your legs.”

God, the fire in his tone set me ablaze. I wanted to push him, see if he’d strip me and then challenge whether or not he’d touch me. I was a mess, a fucking too-hot kitchen on a too-hot day with no air. He’d ghosted me, and I needed to cling to my anger over his indifference toward me.

For starters, I would finish removing the damn sweats, but only because if he removed them or touched me in any way, I would beg him to do more than that. I just fucking would, and I hated myself for it. Slowly, I pushed the waistband over my hips and down my thighs until they were off. Then I settled into bed, feeling the warm sheets against my silky legs.

Decker seemed to settle into me. His arm went up under my neck, which allowed him to pull me close until I was twisted toward him. His bare chest was an inferno against me, but it was that place low in my belly that started to flare to life, going even farther down; my core ached for him to touch me. Even knowing he may have touched Taylor, even knowing he may be gone in the morning…I wanted him.

I brought my hand up, covering his firm chest, carefully running my finger down the lines and into the grooves of his impressive stomach. I kept touching him, listening to him breathe, feeling his own finger trail over my skin, back and forth like a lullaby. We were in sync with one another, rubbing, touching…breathing. In and out, up and down. There were words, stories, and songs in the prints we left on each other’s bodies. Mine spoke of desire, of how badly I wanted him, how I wished for him, and how I knew I could never have him.

His…well…every swipe of his finger over my arm was a tiny flame dancing on my skin. I wanted him to brave going lower, trace the curve of my hip, the dip in my back. The darkness seemed to settle around us, our breaths silent…and just when I thought we’d fall asleep or ignore everything that had happened—or hadn’t happened—between us since that night in his bedroom, he spoke up.

“Thank you for this.”

I kept my cheek plastered to his chest after his words rumbled under me. “Why did you need it?”

Seconds passed. More darkness. I was fighting sleep, batting and swatting it away as I waited for him to answer.

Finally, the pad of his finger brushed over the tattoo under my ear, just like it had that night in his house.

“This.” He applied pressure to the Nordic symbol under my lobe. “And I needed to know you were okay…” He trailed off, and I knew if I had been looking at his throat, I would have seen it bob.

“Whythis?” I whispered, brushing my fingers over the ones he had fastened to my neck.

More time passed, more swipes of his finger against my skin and more moments for me to contemplate what on earth was going on here.

“You make me feel less lost. I saw you over those five days, that raggedy red hoodie, and suddenly it felt like I’d finally found a compass…a way to get back home.” That gruffness in his voice made every word seem like it had been dragged through gravel.

My throat was tight, tears clogging my eyes as I processed the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. Then anger swept it all away.

“That doesn’t feel fair, Decker. You can’t say something like that, be here in my bed, and still try going after my stepsister.”

Another long pause met me as I ran my finger along the trail of hair drifting into the elastic band of his boxers.

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