Page 33 of Fault Line

“Yeah?” she asks, arching a challenging brow. “Who’d you have in mind, then?”

Surprising myself, I blurt out the word “Me” without a split second of hesitation.

She stares, blinking back the shock. “What?”

“You must know I want you, Karras,” I admit, my heart hammering in my ears. “I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. And if you’re looking for just one night, then count me in.”

Her expression shifts from shock to confusion to a heavy dose of skepticism. “Is this a joke?”

“The furthest thing from it.”

There’s a beat of pained silence, and then, “Just one night?”

“Just one,” I echo, my pulse jumping into my throat.

She looks at me for a long moment, chewing on her lower lip, contemplating my offer. Finally, she swallows, thick and heavy as she says, “So, you want to give me another ride?”

“A ride?” I tease. “You mean that thing where you get in my car and I drive you home?”

“Yeah. And then afterward, you can even come inside.”

“Come on.” I take her hand, leading her out of the party and into the darkness. We make it out to the back parking lot in seconds flat. Realizing that she’s finally mine—for just a momentary lapse in time—means that I can’t resist her for another fucking second. I press her up against the side of my car, placing a hand behind her head.

“You sure you want this?” I ask, giving her every last opportunity to back out.

“Just fucking kiss me already.”

As I lean in, a surge of electricity shoots through my veins. Our lips meet. Her mouth is hot and soft against mine, and my heartbeat runs wild as our tongues tangle together. I press tightly against her, the heat between us rising with every passing moment.

She pulls me impossibly close, both hands gripping my shirt as our kiss becomes more desperate, more needy. It’s like we’re trying to devour each other, to hold on to this moment—this one night—as tightly as we can.

When we finally come up for air, she says, “I don’t want to have sex with you, Beck.”

I struggle to catch my breath, confusion lacing my tone. “Yeah, and Idon’twant to have sex with you, either.”

“No, God. I mean, like, we can do anythingbutsex, okay?” She blows out a heated breath. “Just, I don’t want to go that far with you when ...”

“When what?” I carefully press.

With a sigh, she says, “When we don’t even like each other.”

“You still think I don’t like you?” I lean back, running a frustrated hand through my hair. “Kaia, I fucking adore you.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“I admire the hell out of you. I think you’re smart, funny, witty, beautiful.” I stop myself before I get truly carried away. “There’s never a dull moment when we’re around each other.”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to get into my pants?”

A smirk tilts my lips. “Only if honesty’s the kinda thing that turns you on.”

“Oh God, Becker, just get in the fucking car already.”

* * *

By the timewe make it back to her apartment, I’m practically jumping out of my seat in anticipation. I attempted to make small talk during the ride over, but she shut me down and blasted the radio instead.

I get it—she’s probably trying to silence the noise inside her head. But honestly, my own thoughts are just as chaotic. This almost feels like some sort of dream, like an alternate reality that we’re stepping into. It’s certainly my version of a fantasy.

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