Page 20 of Ablaze

A souvenir of my survival.

His finger weaves back over my breast, and my stomach clenches, a want pooling between my thighs.

“You’re stunning,” he croaks.

I grasp his hand, tightening mine over it, feeling too much, like I’ve been dropped into the middle of an ocean with nothing to keep me afloat. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you that this scar doesn’t define you, but makes you all the more perfect?”

“It’s the disfigured remains of a day that will haunt me for the rest of my life, Dean. There’s nothing perfect or awe-inspiring about it,” I retort.

Dean shakes his head. “No. It’s proof you survived. That you endured and thrived. That you’re a fucking warrior. And what looks disfigured to you, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice drops and the moment ignites. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

My breath halts on the exhale, my eyes dropping to his lips.

Before I know it, Dean and I are millimeters apart. So close I can see the ends of his thick brown lashes. So close I can feel the soft caress of his breath on my skin. So close I can almost taste the drag of his tongue over his lip, as if he was dragging it over mine.

What are you doing, Mala? Think about what the fuck you’re doing right now.

“Dean.”

The air stands still while my heart pounds against my chest.

But before either of us can close the millimeter’s gap between us, Dean squeezes his eyes shut. His nostrils flare and his hands fist on his lap, as if he’s physically restraining himself.

“Mala,” he rasps. “I . . . I can’t.”

And despite my cheeks threatening to catch fire, it’s as if a bucket of freezing water has been dumped directly on my head.

I pull back, quickly covering myself up with my sweatshirt, and nod vigorously. “Yeah. No, I get that. We totally can’t.”

“Mala–”

“I think . . . I think I just got caught up in . . . Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” I place a hand over my mouth, trying to come to terms with my own audacity. I shake my head in shock. “I didn’t mean to. God, Rohan would kill–”

“Mala, stop. Nothing happened.” Dean runs his hands over his face before looking at my profile. “But nothing can happen between us, either. Ever.”

I blink rapidly, looking anywhere but at him. God, what the hell was I thinking? Of course nothing can happen. How fucking absurd and completely out of line of me . . .

“Sprinkles.” Dean’s warm palm wraps around my wrist. “Mala, fucking look at me.”

I swallow down my shame, meeting his eyes.

“I won’t risk what we have.” He shakes his head, his expression more determined with each word. “I can’t risk you or this friendship; it means too much to me. You mean too much to me. Yes, Rohan would kill me, but . . .” He takes a breath, not finishing the thought. “Anyone else can come and go, but this,” he tightens his hand around my wrist, “this is forever. Do you understand that?”

My eyes prick with tears I haven’t shed in God knows how long. Forcing my lips to tip up, I urge my face not to give away the fissure that just formed inside my heart. Friendship. It’s the only relationship we have room for between us. On and above that, I’m not even his type.

“Of course. I understand.”

Relief settles in his features as he releases a breath. “Thank God. Fuck, Mala, please tell me we’re good. Please tell me nothing has changed.”

I don a wider smile, hoping my eyes don’t betray my truth, and tell him what he wants to hear. “Yeah, we’re good, Fido.” I settle back on the couch with my knees folded up against my chest, hoping they’ll veil my fractured heart. “I bet it was an aphrodisiac in that tea I gave you, or maybe it’s your purple-stained teeth. I just lost my mind for a second.”

And despite him knowing I’m lying through my teeth, he chuckles . . . except, it’s as fake as my smile. “Yeah, I have that effect on women.”

Chapter Seven

MALA

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