Page 34 of Cross the Line
‘Willow, about the other night,’ I prompt. ‘I—’
‘We don’t need to talk about it,’ she cuts in, her eyes firmly locked on the steps as we round the landing and start on the next flight.
Good thing we have seven more floors to go. Clearly, this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. ‘No, I think we do.’
She blows out a breath, keeping her head dipped and her eyes down. ‘Can’t we just leave it alone? I said some things I shouldn’t have and put you in an awkward position. I’m sorry, okay? Let’s just forget it and move on.’
I blink, taken aback by her apology. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’
‘Of course I do. I made things weird between us.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ I wet my lips, giving myself the opportunity to formulate my response and calculate how I want to approach this. ‘But you did make me realize a few things.’
Thatgets her to look up. Wide, skittish but cautiously hopeful eyes meet mine. And then she trips.
Racing has given me the gift of near-superhuman reflexes, honed over thousands of hours of drills, so I barely think about what I’m doing when I throw an arm out to catch her. I loop it around her waist and haul her back against my chest, nearly sweeping her feet off the ground. On contact, the breath leaves her lungs, and she clutches my arm, pressing back against me like I’m her only lifeline.
I like the feeling more than I care to admit.
‘Oh my god,’ she exhales, slowly regaining her wits and her balance before she peels her trembling fingers from my forearm. ‘Thank you for keeping me from breaking every bone in my body. That was close.’
There’s no way I’d let her get hurt. Never have, never will. Especially now that I’m coming to terms with what she’s brought to life in me.
My heart is thundering in my chest. I’m sure she feels it. ‘You good?’
She nods, which should be a cue for me to let her go, but I can’t bring myself to pull away.
Her body’s warm and soft against mine, and her sweet perfume floods my senses. I’m struck by the thought that I could have held her like this ages ago if I hadn’t been so fucking oblivious.
‘I’m okay,’ she says, almost a whisper. ‘You can let go now.’
‘I don’t think I want to.’
That’s my confession. It’s on par with hers from the other night, but she laughs breathlessly in response, like it’s a joke, and drops her head back against my chest.
‘I can stand on my own,’ she promises, her deep dimples flashing as she grins. ‘You don’t have to worry about me tripping again. I’ll be more careful.’
‘That’s not what I meant, Willow.’
She freezes, then lifts her head slowly. Her smile has been completely wiped away. If the deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes is anything to go off, she’s not going to ask me to clarify.
But that’s fine. She’s going to get it anyway, because I can’t hold it back, even if this isn’t the most romantic place for a confession. It’ll be memorable, at least.
‘What you said to me at the club,’ I murmur, loosening my grip so I can shift her to my side. I don’t want to miss even a flicker of an expression. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Thinking about you.’
‘Dev, don’t,’ she whispers, slipping out of my grasp and backing against the handrail. She grasps it on either side of her hips, bracing herself. ‘You don’t have to do this.’ Her throat moves as she swallows hard, and her words are a little stronger when she speaks again. ‘You don’t have to pacify me. I’m fine. I’m over it.’
‘Pacify you?’ I repeat, nearly scoffing in disbelief. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘Obviously.’ She sidesteps down one of the stairs, still clutching the rail, and I follow without hesitation. ‘You make people feel better when they mess up. It’s just what you do. Who you are.’
The statement throws me off-kilter and halts my movements. Sure, I like to keep the peace and keep my life as chaos-free as possible, but that doesn’t mean I’m constantly placating the people around me. Right?
But shit, is that what she thinks?Is thatwhat I do? Is it what I’m doing right now?
The answer is a resoundingfuck no. I’m not doing any of this to make her feel better about her confession. I’m doing it because I’m so hung up on this girl that I can’t sleep. And I’m so focused on her that I barely care that I have a race tomorrow, one that I’m going to be woefully unprepared for. Her admission the other night opened floodgates that were being held back by a rusty lock, and now I’m stuck dealing with the onslaught. I’m selfish enough to want her in the disaster zone with me.
‘That’s not what I’m doing.’
