Page 54 of Cross the Line
So I weakly joke, ‘Remember, no destruction of property.’
And there it is, that all-consuming grin he’s known for. All bright white teeth and a hint of his usual mischievousness in his eye. ‘I promise nothing.’
He rocks back on his heels and plants his hands on his knees before he pushes himself up, once again towering over me. I glance away, knowing I need to get back to the garage and all the stuff I left behind. But before I can move, Dev presses his fingertips beneath my chin and tilts my head up.
‘Thank you,’ he says, his eyes holding mine. ‘Seriously. I needed this. I needed you.’
My throat is so tight I’m rendered speechless. He makes these comments so lightly, tossing them out like he utters them all the time, but every one hits me with the impact of a sucker punch. Doesn’t he understand that he can’t talk like that? He can’t make me feel like I’m firmly ensconced in the centre of his world when I’m supposed to stay in the periphery.
‘I’ll always be here for you,’ I finally say. Because I’m no better. I may have gone too far, but I won’t lie to him. And it seems as though he’s decided the same.
He cups my cheek for a split second before his touch falls away, his smile so sweet and so personal that it only reinforces his statement.
We both know what we want. What we need. The only question is whether we’re reckless enough to go after it.
CHAPTER 18
Dev
Nothing saysI love Americamore than a party in London.
Location aside, every detail of the club screams it. A moment ago, I was almost smacked in the face by an eagle piñata, and I’m pretty sure George Washington is doing Jell-O shots at the bar. The chants ofUSA! USA!are bound to start at any second.
Beside me, Chava’s salivating over the model-slash-waitress passing by wearing nothing more than red-and-white striped bikini bottoms and glitter star-shaped pasties. I won’t deny that I glanced, but only to confirm that I wasn’t hallucinating. Buck’s Fourth of July parties have always been tacky and wild, but damn, this is a whole new level.
‘I think I might be overdressed,’ Willow says on my other side, touching the short hem of her dress. It’s red and silky with thin straps crisscrossing over her back. The second she walked out of the hotel wearing it, I wanted to tug on one of those strings and drag her back to my room.
It’s been two days since Buck ended my race prematurely because of his over-inflated ego – and two days since I told Willow in so many words that I was ready to dissolve our agreement to keep things professional. She understood what I meant, yet she hasn’t brought it up, and I haven’t pushed.
But I don’t know how long I can keep acting like I’m not fully obsessed with this girl. ‘You’re perfect,’ I tell her, throwing out any hope of keeping my fixation under wraps. Might as well speak my mind now. Dropping my voice, I add, ‘Not that I’d mind seeing you in those pasties.’
‘Dev,’ she warns in a horrified gasp, her eyes swinging up to me. And while her expression is one of shock, the underlying spark in her gaze heats my blood.
‘Not sorry.’ It’s flippant and true, and I’m done being subtle. With one hand cupping her elbow, I put my other on Chava’s shoulder to guide them both. ‘Come on, they’ve got a taco bar.’
Chava makes a dreamy sound, finally tearing his focus away from the waitress. ‘Nothing more American than Mexican food.’
‘And it’s probably the best we’ll get in this country. Let’s go.’
Chava pulls away as we move toward the serving line, grabbing a plate and eagerly awaiting his turn. I move a little slower, my hand still on Willow’s elbow. If she questions my need to touch her, I’ll say it’s because I don’t want her to trip in her giant platform heels, though she’s managed just fine so far. If she’s had any joint issues or been in pain since we’ve been travelling, she hasn’t mentioned it. Either she’s doing better these days or she’s keeping it from me.
‘You feeling okay?’ I ask her over the din of conversations and an AC/DC song blasting in the background.
She nods and leans into me a little, making my heart stutter. I’m not sure she realizes she’s doing it, like it’s natural for her body to seek out mine. It gives me hope that I sure as shit shouldn’t be feeling.
‘Just a little tired,’ she admits, smiling softly, seemingly recovered from my pasties comment. ‘I don’t know how you travel like this and still manage to race. My head’s spinning.’
As I consider my response, I shift so I can face her before I speak, but her body moves with me. She’s not just leaning into me like I thought. No, she’s redistributed most of her weight to her right side, which means I’m supporting her far more than I realized. She has her left hip popped out to the side slightly, as if she’s trying to take the pressure off it. She’s clearly in pain – and probably a lot of it.
‘Let me take you back to the hotel,’ I tell her, giving her a once-over, searching for any other clues that give away her discomfort. ‘You don’t need to be here if you’re hurting.’
She frowns up at me, straightening a little. ‘I said I was tired, not hurting.’
‘Wills.’ I level her with a stare. ‘You’re obviously uncomfortable. We can leave right now. I’ll call Mark on our way so he can be ready to work on your—’
‘I’m fine,’ she interrupts and pulls her elbow out of my grasp so she’s standing on her own in those ridiculous shoes. ‘I took an anti-inflammatory before we left, so it should be kicking in soon. But if I need to leave, I can do it on my own.’
The hell she can. I’m not about to let her wander back up a steep flight of steps and out onto the London streets to fend for herself. She’s staying where I can see her at all times so I know she’s okay.
