Page 42 of Pick Six
“Nothing.”
“You had a bad dream where nothing happened?”
“Something happened, I just don’t want to share.” I’m snippy when I answer him.
“Okay…” He trails off like he’s assessing me. “Is there something I can do?”
My eyes snap to his, studying them because his newfound interest in my feelings and making sure I’m okay have knocked me off kilter. The kind things he’s been doing lately are obliterating a lot of my previous assumptions about him, and I’m struggling to figure out where the line between the real Alex and the fake boyfriend is. He stares back at me and then he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing over my arm, but I jolt involuntarily at the contact. His fingers against my skin too much of a reminder.
“Saint?” He looks at me, worry deepening the little valley between his brows.
“You were in the dream.” I try to explain away my jumpiness because it is weird that I’m this skittish over a nightmare as an adult. We both know it’s weird.
He pulls his hand back and glances down at the counter, clearing his throat softly before he speaks again.
“I know we haven’t always gotten along but you know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right? Fuck, you know I’d hurt anyone who tried. Whatever has you like this—you’re safe here. You’re safe with me.” The way he says it—a hint of pain in his voice that he has to say it at all, but so much conviction.
My heart kicks up in my chest, and there’s another answering flutter in my stomach. His eyes study my face again, and mine wander. I can’t take the direct eye contact from him right now. The way it feels like he sees through me.
“I know,” I whisper.
“What did I do?”
I take the last sip of my water, trying to buy time for a reasonable response. Something that would explain why I’m jumpy but come nowhere near the truth. It’s not enough. A few small swallows and times up. His eyes are burning a hole through me. The gold-flecked brown caught in the light bouncing off the stainless steel of the fridge.
“You grabbed me. Put me on the counter, ripped things off, and uh… put your mouth on me.” The words are out before I can stop them, even as I trip over them. I can’t think of a good lie and then I bite the inside edge of my lip. I can’t believe I said it out loud. Just blurted it, like some kind of idiot incapable of controlling her own tongue.
The words are like a physical slap, and he slides back along the counter several inches before he stands up, shaking his head.
“If I said too much earlier tonight… I’m sorry. I would never—ever—touch you like that without you asking for it.”
“I know,” I whisper, my throat dry again even with the water.
He stares at me again, his eyes running over me.
“Oh,” he says finally, his tone deep and raspy. Like maybe we both need a drink. “You wanted it.” He trails off and then he looks at me carefully. Like he’s seeing something he didn’t before. “Youwantit.” It’s an observation and a question wrapped in one.
TWENTY-THREE
Alex
“Shouldn’t,”she whispers.
“That’s not what I asked.”
She stares at the glass in front of her like she’s studying it to find answers there.
“I think I might be developing a weird crush or something as a result of all this,” she says at last, waving her finger back and forth between us and looking like she’s not thrilled to be admitting it.
“A crush?” I try not to sound too enthusiastic, but I need to know what she means by that.
“Yeah… I know we’re too old for crushes, but I don’t know what else to call it. I think it’s just that I haven’t really dated much since the divorce and then you’re here, and you’re… a lot. It would explain the weird dream and the misplaced jealousy earlier.” Her eyes shift, sliding over me absently.
My eyebrow raises as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. Whether I’ve finally just heard a touch of the things I’ve been hoping to hear since I found out she’s single again. Or if it’s just incredibly late and I’m imagining the things I want to hear being said.
“Don’t get freaked out. I’m not going to turn into a fangirl. Trust me.” She rolls her eyes like she doesn’t like the way I’m watching her.
“I’m a lot?”
