Page 135 of The Last Call Home
Obviously, I glare at Lilah.“And you believe him?”
“I do.”
“So what do you expect then?”I ask both of them because I don’t know if I can let it go that easily.They’re lucky I haven’t shoved them in glass cases so nothing happens to them.
“Well, since we’ve been so patient ...”she purrs, eyes sliding from Malerick to me, “I think we deserve a little celebration, don’t you?”
Mal grunts in agreement, his gaze already dragging over her like he hasn’t touched her in a year.
She doesn’t move fast.
Delilah just sits there—bare legs curled beneath her, my shirt hitched high on her thighs, her mouth tilted in that light, wicked curve that always communicates more than her words do.Her eyes are on me, dark and calm, yet charged underneath.
Like she knows precisely what I’m thinking.
And she does.
Because we haven’t touched—not really—since the hospital.Since Malerick nearly died in my arms and ...no.
“I said I’m fine,” Malerick repeats, voice low, voice meant to convince me.He shrugs off the last layer of his jacket, pulling his T-shirt up just enough to expose the scar—a faint pink line on his side where the bullet passed through.“Doc cleared me.You want me to pull out the discharge paper?Call Sims so she can tell you I’m fine?”
“Maybe I will,” I mutter.
Delilah shifts forward slightly, her fingers brushing the cushion beside her like she’s warming up the spot for me.Like she’s giving me a choice:Come here or keep punishing yourself.
And, God, I’ve punished myself enough.
I cross the room without saying a word.I sit beside her, thigh to thigh.The couch dips under our combined weight, and she sighs—just a breath—but it slides under my skin like a fucking blade.Her knee brushes mine.On purpose.Her hand trails up my arm, resting lightly on my bicep.
I feel it everywhere.
“How’s your shoulder?”I ask her, voice rougher than I meant.
She doesn’t answer right away.Just drags her fingers higher, up to my neck, to the line of my jaw.Then she leans in, whispering against my mouth.
“I’m not made of glass.”
I close my eyes.
Her lips don’t touch mine, not yet.She just waits.And that’s worse.
Worse than the nightmares.Worse than the silence.
I turn my face slightly, letting my nose brush hers.“I don’t want to hurt you.”Then I look at Mal.“I don’t want to hurt either one of you.”
“You won’t,” she assures me.
“You’ve both been through hell?—”
“So bring us back,” Lilah whispers.“Cass ...”Her voice breaks on my name.Just enough to kill what little distance remains between us.
I kiss her slow.
There’s no rush.No grabbing.Just lips against lips, heat blooming between us like something sacred.Her mouth opens beneath mine, soft and familiar and new all at once.I taste the mint of her toothpaste, the wine she barely touched with dinner, and something that belongs only to her.
Want.
She kisses me like she’s been starving for it.Like her lips have nowhere else to go but mine.
