Page 99 of Tell Me Why
“Okay, well…” I swallow. “...I guess I’d better take a shower.” My voice sounds weird even to me—too high, too forced. I’m trying to act normal when everything inside me is screaming that something’s wrong.
Without grabbing any clean clothes, I make a beeline for the bathroom and shut myself inside. My emotions are all over the place right now. I guess almost dying will do that.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my palm against my mouth to keep a sob from escaping. I want to hate Christian for making me feel this way—vulnerable, scared andso fuckingconflicted. But as much as I want to hate him, I don’t.
I don’t.
How fucked up is that?
How fucked up am I for loving a guy who is capable of so much darkness?
I pause, swallowing hard. DoIlovehim?
Christian saved my life, but that doesn’t erase the dark things he’s done—the cruelty, the manipulation. He’s far too savage to love. There’s no way it would work between us, no happily ever after—and yet, I can’t get him out of my head.
Being with him is like walking into a storm you know could kill you. My brain tells me to turn away, run, but my heart wants to lean into the chaos, give myself to it.
Even now, when I close my eyes, I can feel his fingertips on my skin, hear his deep, rumbling baritone in my ear—that lethal tenderness that makes my heart skip a beat. It’s crazy how much I crave him when it’s clear he’s no good for me…
What’s that quote? “Love makes you stupid.”
I guess it does.
I end up jumping in the shower and letting the hot water wash away the cold, the saltwater, and the nightmare of almost being drowned. Thick steam fills my lungs as I stand under the water and just…try to pull my shit together.
I don’t know how long I’m in the bathroom—twenty minutes, maybe—before I’m finally brave enough to leave my little bathroom sanctuary. I grab a plush white towel and use it to dry off, then wrap it around my body.
Okay. Here we go.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pull the door open to face whatever’s waiting for me in the bedroom. Will Christian be waiting? Will he be gone?
I walk out and stop short. Christian is sitting on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his thighs, the manila envelope in his hands.
My heart leaps, but I try to look casual. Like, I’m not relieved he’s still here. “I thought you were leaving.”
He holds the envelope up, ignoring my statement. Typical. “It’s still sealed,” he says.
“You went through my bag?” Why am I surprised? It’d only be the millionth time he’s violated my privacy.
“I thought I’d start putting things away for you,” he says. “This was sitting on the top.”
My gaze shifts to the envelope, my heart rate kicking up. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I was too tired to read it last night.”
“Bullshit,” he says, calling me out.
He tosses the envelope onto the nightstand, rises, and walks over to me.Damn, but this guy makes me feel small and vulnerable. Just having him this close—his warmth, his clean smell—sends static skittering across my skin. I have to remind myself that I’m supposed to hate him.
With a shrug, I glance down at my feet. This beautiful guy lookingright at menever fails to make me blush.
He touches the underside of my chin, tipping my face up, so I’m looking directly into his eyes. “Have I ever told you how much I hate lying?”
Is he being serious?
I smirk. “...says theleasthonest guy I’ve ever met…”
He smirks back, his eyes traveling over my face like he’s studying every detail and committing it to memory. “Well, you know what they say, ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’”
“That’s a dumb expression,” I say. “But, anyway, I’m not lying. Iwastired.”
