“All right, but if things change, I will be telling you, and you can decide what should be done.” She doesn’t realize who her new little friend here is stalking. I’m not sure how she’d feel about it. I know I probably shouldn’t be using it against Marks, but there is nothing I wouldn’t do if someone was in my way to Cosima. Marks needs to understand that.
“I don’t even understand what you said, but okay,” Cosima agrees.
“Marks understands, and that’s what matters. Right?” I cock my head toward her, and she nods.
I note that Marks isn’t saying she’ll stop, and on some level, I can more than understand that. My stalking of Cosima is leaps and bounds further than Marks’ fascination with Ronan. But I’ve had a lot more time than she has.
“Maybe I should leave you two to talk?” Marks takes a few more steps back, putting her now into the hallway. “I’ll be in my room. Come talk to me later,” she says to Cosima.
Again, Marks is terrible at hiding cues in person. There is something she wants to talk to her about, something that is a secret.
"Fine. Run." Cosima sighs. "I get it. I'd run too if I could."
"You're welcome to try," I advise her. She wouldn’t get very far. Not even a few steps.
"Shut up." An admirable growl comes from her.
"Don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy me chasing you." I lean down closer, feeling her minty sweet breath against my lips. "You wanted me to chase you here."
"I ran to get away from you."
"Oh, Cosima, haven't you realized this yet?" I bring my hand to her cheek, cupping it so my thumb can stroke her soft skin. "You'll never escape me."
Chapter Eleven
COSIMA
Ican’t deny what he’s saying, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I did want him to chase. What girl doesn’t?
The whole reason I didn’t let Marks check my phone again was because I was scared to find out he wasn’t still watching over me in his own way, which I’m starting to think is a whole lot deeper than I ever realized. But what I’m not getting is why.
“Why are you doing this? I can’t escape you, but you treat me like shit.” I lean my head all the way back so that I can look up into his eyes. Z flinches for the first time, giving me an emotion that isn’t pure intensity because that is all I have felt since we walked in the door.
I go to step back, needing his hand off me. His thumb is still gently stroking my cheek, and it’s hard to think when he’s being sweet—okay, kind of sweet. Z doesn’t let me move, but his hand does drop from my cheek, only to cup the back of my neck, keeping me firmly in place.
“I’ve missed you.”
I grit my teeth, trying to get my anger in check, but it only lasts for a second, maybe only a tenth of a second. “Bullshit.”
“I know I fucked up.”
“You fucked up?” I repeat, getting louder. “You fucked up!” I mean, the man left me a note after he took my virginity. That has to count as more than fucking up.
“Stop saying fuck.” There is a warning in his tone.
Z is different. I can see it in his eyes and feel it in his touches. There is an edge to him I have never seen before. There are no jokes or teasing. In fact, he’s been laying out threats.
“Why?” I challenge, wanting to poke him any way that I can. His hold only on my neck tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s making it clear he’s got me where he wants me.
“Because it’s going to get you fucked.” I can feel my heart start to thump in my chest and an ache forms between my thighs. I hate that my body reacts to him even when I'm upset.
Don’t do it, Cosima, I warn myself, but damn, I know I’m going to lose even a battle with myself. My mouth has a way of getting away from me.
“Fuck you.” The words are barely out of my mouth before Z’s is crashing down onto mine in a hard kiss. I push against his chest, trying to fight a battle I know I’m going to lose, not only because of Z but myself. As much as I want to be pissed at him—and I am—I want this too.
I am reluctant, yet my lips part for him, Z’s tongue thrusting into my mouth. My fingers dig into the front of his shirt, no longer fighting it. No, I push my body into his as heat floods through me, need and desire pooling deep in my stomach.
Z’s hands go to my ass, lifting me off my feet. I wrap my legs around him. “I hate you,” I say, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip. He grunts, pushing me up against a wall.
