Page 123 of Burn

She doesn’t tell me she loves me, too. It’s not a grand declaration of her undying love, but it’s so much more than I could have hoped for, and I would crawl across hot coals for less. My hands relax and open, sitting between us with my palms up. Her fingers lace through mine, and she pulls my hand up and presses a soft kiss into the back of it. My arms ache with the need to hold her, but I force myself to stay still, too scared to break this moment of peace between us.

She bites her bottom lip and shifts back, pushing herself off me. Her hand is still in mine, and she gently pulls me to my feet. My legs feel like rubber. Like, they may not hold my weight. She tilts her chin. “Stay,” she says. “But” my heart skips. “No more lies. No more chances. Stay, and we’ll make this work. No safe words.” She smirks with her last words.

“I won’t,” I rush out. “I won’t lie. Never again.”

She nods once. “Okay. Keep your hands to yourself, just for tonight.”

A smile ghosts my lips as my heart soars. “Yes, ma’am.”

She presses up onto her toes and kisses me. It’s light, reserved, and I follow her lead. Her lips brush mine when she says, “Lock up. I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”

She steps away and walks into the bedroom. Disappointment edges my excitement, but I push it down and walk to the door, sliding the chains into place. When I turn,she’s setting a pillow and a folded blanket on the couch. Her eyes flick between it and me, and she repeats, “Just for tonight.”

I cross the apartment and lie down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and listening to her move through the space. I hear her open and close her dresser drawer, and the rustle of her bed as she climbs in. When her movements stop, and I’m once again greeted by silence, I settle in, knowing I won’t sleep, and I hope — really fucking hope — this is the start of something good.

I am deep in thought, replaying the night in my head, when a faint sound snags my attention. I close my eyes and strain my ears, unsure if I imagined it. The creak of the bedroom door confirms it, and my pulse skitters as I listen to her bare feet pad across the floor. I don’t move a muscle, my hands loose at my sides. I feel her presence first, heat radiating off her. No words are exchanged as I feel the couch dip beneath me. Her thigh brushes over my dick as she crawls on top of me.

She curls into me, resting her head on my chest, above my heart, and exhales as if she’s been holding her breath for weeks. When she stills, I wrap my arms around her and feel my heart even out. Her hand slides under the hem of my shirt. It’s not sexual, it’s a connection, a reminder that this is real. Within seconds, her breathing evens out.

This time, I do sleep. Not because I’m tired, which I am. I’m exhausted, physically and emotionally, but that’s not it.

Now, I sleep, because for the first time in a long fucking time, I’m at peace.

Awake

Lex

Four Months Later

“You expect me to behave myself when you look likethis?”

His voice is a low growl against my ear. I smirk, glancing sideways at him. His dark eyes sparkle in the bright lights of the arena, and his attention is solely focused on me. As always. Today, though, his attention should be on the ice. I can’t imagine how much he paid for these seats, and he’s missing the game. I turn to face him and suck my bottom lip between my teeth, causing him to groan and adjust his pants. “When you’re looking at me like that?”

A wide smile spreads across my face. “Nope,” I say, popping the p and dragging my hand up the inside of his thigh. “I expect you to do whatever the opposite of behaving is.” I lean in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth just as the Bruins score and the crowd erupts around us.

“Evil,” he mutters on a laugh. “You’re so evil.”

He leans back and wraps his arm around me, returning his attention to the game. Our last few months have been like this. Playful and easy. Full of genuine happiness. We agreed to put the past in the past, leaving all the terrible and hurtful shit behind us, because there’s no way we can move forward if I’m constantly holding it over his head. I assumed it would be hard, but it’s been blissfully simple. He’s so different. Since that night, he’s told me he loves me a handful of times, but so far, I’ve notsaid it in return. It’s not that I don’t, but I think it’s the last lingering form of self-preservation.

My eyes are still on Adrian, and I watch him take a deep breath, sighing on his exhale with a spaced-out, dopey smile on his face. “My favorite place with my favorite girl.”

Warmth floods my cheeks. I’ll never tire of hearing him say such sweet things, but I can’t miss the opportunity to tease him. “Yourfavorite place on your favorite girl’s birthday. However, will you make it up to me? I don’t even like hockey, you know.”

He spins, looking wounded briefly before a devilish grin spread across his face. “Oh, I can think of ways I’ll make it up to you later.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Everything about him here is boyish, almost innocent, and… fuck… I reach for his hand, pulling it across the gap between us and pressing it over my racing heart. He slips his thumb under my shirt, brushing it over my nipple. Tiny jolts of electricity course through my body.

He leans in and groans, “Naughty, girl.”

Just before our lips meet, with my heart slamming into his hand, I whisper, “I love you, Adrian.”

He goes completely still. The game fades into muted background noise, and when he shifts back to look into my eyes, his expression is soft and overwhelmed, full of emotion. It’s been about six weeks since he said it to me. I think he’s been trying to keep it to himself. His eyes search mine just before they close. His chest rises and falls, and I love the way his throat moves as he swallows around the emotions.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Adrian.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. It’s ragged, and he leans in, slow and reverent. “Happy Birthday, Donnelly. Want your present now?”

I smile against his mouth, innocently asking, “Is it sex in one of the arena restrooms?”

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