“Oh my god, I’m falling, I’m gonna die!”
“You’re not falling. I’ve got you.”
I feel an arm under my knees and in my back. I open one of my eyes and try to focus hard enough for the world around me to stop spinning. I can still see. I’m not dead. And I feel so comfy, my side plastered against something warm and hard and… God, that smells good. I love that smell. It reminds me of something. Something safe. But I frown. Forbidden. This smell is forbidden.
“Is it?” the sexy voice asks playfully, and I move, but my feet are still not touching the ground.
“It is!” I whisper yell. What if the smell hears me?
“And… What if it was not?”
“Not what?”
The world stops moving in front of a door. Ugly glass door. And thecomfortable warm thing surrounding me freezes. “Fuck.” he says. Why is this voice so sexy?
“Not what?” I ask again.
“Forbidden,” his voice is soft. Low. Like a raspy whisper. “What if it wasn’t forbidden?”
He turns around after a pause and he fidgets a little before walking back towards the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask, nuzzling my face in his neck, inhaling deeply.
“There’s a tie on the handle.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I sigh.
“It means the person inside is probably having sex, Prue. Your brother is inside. With Ikram.”
I giggle. I’m comfortable talking about sex. Except with that forbidden smell. I’m not sure why. “Good for him. But where are we going?”
“We’re not going to interrupt whatever is happening inside that house, sweetness.”
“Why are you calling me sweetness? It’s—”
“Come on, I’ve got a spare room. You need to sleep the alcohol off and drink water, or you’ll have a deadly headache tomorrow.”
I feel just fine. I want to keep talking to that voice. Smelling him. I feel—
He stops. Are we there yet? It feels like just one minute ago we were in front of the house Jack is having sex in…
“Hold on to me, Prue. I need to open the door.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I wrap my arms around his neck and shoulders burying my face deeper in the space where they meet. Per-fect. I can feel how warm his skin is when it’s not covered by the shirt. And that spot in his neck? Uncovered skin.
Amazing. Uncovered. Skin.
Should I ask him to take his shirt off?
“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, his voice strained, and I’m almost certain I can feel his heart beat faster.
Right. He can hear my mind. Or do I speak it? I’m not sure anymore.
I hear the door open, but I don’t let go of my hold. One of his arms justunder my knees, the other going back to my back now that the door is closed behind us. I feel so comfortable that I’m considering appointing him my new pillow. Or new couch. Maybe even new bed.
He chuckles. The deep sound so close to my ear sends a shiver through my spine, the thin hairs on my arms rising as goosebumps erupt on my skin. It takes everything in my power not to let my toes curl as well.
The dark room lights up slowly and stops at a warm tone. He takes a couple of steps and I feel him lift me higher. My arms tighten around him in response.
