Page 49 of Flame
I don’t want to be with Liam,I admit, fully aware of how pathetic continuing this conversation might seem. Someone like Mara would probably block his number and go on with her night. She wouldn’t beg.
But Mara never saw the man he is beneath the mask. Even if I wrote off his bravado and swagger, I couldn’t escape one glaring image in my head—his face when he saw me with Liam. That rage wasn’t faked. Or the pain.
I hurt him.
So I keep typing, even at the expense of my pride. I don’t want you to be my dirty little secret. I want to be with you.
I see the flashing symbol indicating he’s responding in real-time. My breath sticks in my throat, staying there as the seconds pass before the symbol vanishes without another message. For a minute. Longer.
Ironically words are supposed to be my medium. My outlet. My one way of getting my intentions out into the world unfiltered.
But there’s no pretty way to spin what I’ve done to him. No way to wiggle out of this web of lies. In a moment like this, I can only show him.
My heart races as I sit up and strip my shirt without thinking through the consequences. Adrenaline feeds through my blood, but doesn’t provide any extra confidence. I’m scared. Niggling paranoia mocks me with all the ways this moment could be violated. Branden could have snuck in somehow and hidden another camera, spying on me from a distance.
It would certainly explain why he hasn’t already broken down the door and dragged me back to his home by my hair.
But for the first time in my life, another fear takes precedence over my apprehension of him. It’s simple and selfish at its core—I like being free. I relish every minute spent away from him.
And even if he’s done with me, I don’t want to lose the one person who made this possible. Sucking in a breath, I manipulate the camera to face me and strike the shutter button. A heartbeat later, the resulting image floods the screen.
She’s a world apart from Rafe’s beautiful, stylistic image.
This figure is one-hundred percent how I see myself. Me. Wide-eyed and unsure, my shirt off, breasts bare. My body exposed.
All of the reasons not to send it race through my mind, forming a mantra of sorts. If anyone could use this against me, it would be him. As blackmail when he grows bored of me. As leverage over my brother and his position as an officer. As pure fodder to feed his stud reputation.
The list goes on and on.
But the more I stare at myself, the more nuances I pick up that I’d overlooked at first. And I come to one startling conclusion—I was wrong. The look in my eyes isn’t shame or fear. Instead, it’s a mirror image of the one he crafted in his sketch of me.
Guarded. Mysterious—but with a hint of the emotion, he exudes in spades—honesty.
Any doubt I had vanishes as I hit send and slump onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. He could reply with some cruel comment or never at all. He could be fucking Mara or who knows who else.
He could be doing whatever he can to hurt me back. To punish me for lying to him.
I still don’t think I’d regret it. For the first time in my life, I caught a glimpse of the Hannah I never see in my own reflection. The woman he’s been taunting me with all along.
She’s real.
I’m more than some fearful, little bunny.
As the seconds tick by without a response, I’m resigned to the fact that this is all I’ll get from him. Maybe I can live with that. Grow from that. Even his rejection would be well worth the new perspective.
There’s more to me than cowering, and lies, and fear…
I’ve barely finished the thought before my screen lights up.
More.
I shiver at that sole command. I can imagine him voicing it against my ear, his voice gruff, breath like fire against my earlobe.
Alight with his encouragement, I reposition myself and raise the camera, aiming lower. This time, I don’t have to wait for his reply, brusquely succinct.
More.
Excitement electrifies me in ways I never knew were possible. My brain shies away from the comparison at first—only to cling to it ferociously. It’s the same thrill that infects me whenever I write. The inane belief that anything is possible as long as I will it to be. That my actions can shape the universe, for good or bad.
