Page 14 of Save Your Breath
And not just for a regular phone call.
For avideocall.
“Shit,” I cursed, looking around the bathroom like there was something in there that could save me. In my panic, I answered the call, but with the option that only connected me to audio. The screen filled with a dark image of Aleks, one tattooed arm propped behind his head and a sleepy grin on his face.
“Hi,” I said.
“Turn on your video.”
“No.”
“If you’re going to call me an alcoholic, at least have the balls to say it to my face.”
“I don’t have balls, and I didn’t say you were an alcoholic.”
“You insinuated it.”
“No, I insinuated that you can be a messy drunk — which you proved to be true countless times in high school and every year since — and that I don’t want to deal with it as your fiancée.”
He paused, that sleepy smirk firmly in place. He stared at the screen as if he could see me through it even with the camera turned off. “Fiancée,” he mused. “Has a nice ring to it, eh? Should I practice introducing you as the future Mrs. Suter?”
His Swiss-German accent was so slight now that it was barely anything at all, but sometimes, like when he said his last name, I heard it. It brought me back to when we were kids. His English had been phenomenal even then, but now? If you didn’tknowhe lived in Switzerland for sixteen years, you might never have guessed.
Especially since he didn’t talk about it much.
When we were kids, he’d been tight-lipped about his past until one night when my parents were at a charity auction and we were home alone. We’d snuck a bottle of Dad’s vodka and hung out in the hot tub, and for the first time, he’d opened up to me about his parents.
How his mom and dad were addicts, how his mom had died when he was just a toddler, how his father had taken off shortly after and left him in foster care, only to die a couple years later, himself. How Annaliese, his foster mom, had saved him.
That was a past he was trying to run from, not one he wanted to broadcast.
“Please, like I’d take any man’s last name.”
He chuckled. “Turn on your damn video, Strings.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m in the bath.”
He fell silent for a beat, and even though his screen was dark, I swore I saw his jaw tighten a bit with that admission. It reminded me of the time when we were teens and he’d walked inon me getting out of the shower in our shared bathroom. I’d had a towel wrapped around me, but that didn’t stop me from feeling naked under his heated gaze when he dragged it from my damp hair all the way down to my toes.
Before I could analyze his pause too much, he sucked his teeth, leaning up against his headboard and flicking on a lamp so I could see him better.
“Come on. We’re getting married. Can’t your future husband get a look at the goods before purchase?”
“You’re a pig.” I huffed. “Hold on.”
I used my free hand to wash all the bubbles up around my neck, making sure there wasn’t so much as a glimpse of mygoods, as Aleks had called them, before I allowed access to my video.
“There,” I said when my image flickered on. “Happy?”
“Very,” he mused, rolling his lips together in that stupid, infuriatingly sexy way he always had. “Although I’d be even happier if a strong wind would whip through and blow those bubbles away.”
“I’m about to blowyou, if you don’t stop,” I warned.
And then I paled, becausewhat the fuck did I just say?
