Page 25 of Waging War
Breathe, Hazel.
But my toes are wiggling and my fingers flex as I struggle to remain calm. Maybe I can keep him distracted long enough that he won’t realize his mistake. I haven’t been this close to freedom since the night Jules attempted to free us.
Inching close enough to the crack in the door to cover it with my body, I press back against it lightly so that it’s lying against the jam, then take a step forward.
Ben turns to face me, and the droop in his shoulders has the tiniest piece of my resolve shuddering. I’ve never seen him in such a somber mood.
From the corner of my eye, his discarded boots taunt me. Whatever is going on with him is none of my concern. The man might as well have offered me this opportunity to run.
I’ll have to bide my time before I bolt. It’s wet, cold, and there’s a chance he’s not alone. But I don’t have time to care. It’s now, or possibly never.
My palms sweat as his stormy gaze rises.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, trying for a steady, assured tone and not one that says,The minute you let your guard down, I’m gone.
Ben crosses one ankle over the other and leans back against the counter. He casts a forlorn look at the cake sitting beside him. “I see you enjoyed your gift.”
“Actually, I threw it all up. Nothing like binge eating your grief, right?” Shit. So much for calm and collected.
I sound bitter, and it should feel good to kick him while he’s down, but any enjoyment falls flat when he frowns.
Damn him. I don’t want to care what’s going on in his head or why he continues to seek me out.
“Company,” he says plainly.
I cross my arms, sure that I’ve misunderstood. “Come again?”
He smiles one of those heart-wrenching, dejected smiles that most people reserve for the toughest times. The times when they know they may not make it through the trenches of hell, but they’re damn sure going to try.
My stance instinctively widens as he pushes away from the counter to saunter over to me. The rain mixing with the heat of his skin smells so good that it takes my brain several seconds to catch up.
Don’t look at the door. Don’t look at the door.
“I wanted your company,” he says softly.
Oh.
“Unless you like being stabbed or told repeatedly that you’re unwelcome, I’d say I’m shit for company.”
Ben’s laugh glides over my shoulders, tickling my insides.
“Knife play isn’t my usual kink.” He flaunts a sexy smirk. “But I’ll try anything once.”
My shoulders relax a touch. Smiling is tempting, except that would require me to release the bone-deep disdain I’ve been cultivating just for him.
He searches my face as that familiar fuse between us sparks with life. The presence of war plays across his features in the form of a deep scowl, thinning lips, and the twitch of a muscle just above his cheek. When he drags his eyes away from mine for a single moment, they return, burning with riddles I can’t decipher.
“I’ve come to a bit of a realization,” he says. I hold his stare, waiting for the storm in those deep blue eyes to settle, but chaos rages on. “I’m lonely.”
A rumble of thunder sounds. I attempt to swallow the thick knot forming in my throat.
“So fucking lonely, Hazel.” His shoulders rise and fall gently. We’re chest to chest now, his big body supplying mine with delicious heat, but he doesn’t make a move to touch me again.
Don’t you dare feel bad for this man.
There are too many reasons why I should tell him to leave me alone. Instead, I silently beg him to show himself.
I’ve grown curious to see the man beneath the enforcer’s mask.
