There's a long pause as we both consider that. It's a possibility, that's for sure.
“I'm sorry I ran away,” I repeat, and Church lifts his head, golden hair feathering across his forehead and catching the light. He's absolutely stunning in that yukata, with the fabric sliding down one shoulder and exposing his skin to the candlelight.
I wonder if he’s wearing any underwear beneath his robe?
I facepalm for even thinking that.
When I look up, Church is raising a single, skeptical brow at me.
“Did you just literally facepalm to your own thoughts?” he asks, and I grimace. I have a bad habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve. He smiles at me before I get a chance to respond and sets his teacup aside, leaning forward and putting a hand between my legs. My robe catches under his palm, giving me absolutely zero chance of escaping. “I love how animated you are, Mr. Carson.”
“Animated is one way of putting it,” I hedge as he leans in even closer, and I smell that familiar lilac-rosemary scent we both share. I've just been using the cherry blossom stuff they stock the bathroom with here, but I'm pretty sure Church must've brought some of the Adamson stuff with him. That, or I'm just, like, super attuned to his scent. My cheeks flush red, but I refuse to accept that last idea as fact.
Church's smile gets a little wider, just enough that the emotion finally glints back at me from his beautiful amber eyes.
“See what I mean?” he whispers, leaning in close enough that I think he's going to kiss me again. Instead, he moves past my mouth and plants a kiss on the side of my jaw instead. “You're blushing. Pray tell: what thought’s just skittered through that pretty little head of yours?”
“Pretty little head … that's kinda sexist, don't you think?” I murmur, flushing even harder, and Church laughs again. It's a low, soft sound, almost dangerous. I can't believe I ever thought he was a sociopath (or psychopath, whatever, I can't remember the difference). He's just bottled up, full of emotion he refuses to submit to. Me, I'm a slave to my emotions.
Church just pulls back slightly, leaning over and turning the gas down on the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. My breath catches, and I have to throw a lasso around my heart to keep it from beating so furiously that it escapes out of my gently parted lips.
“You don't have to apologize for running. You saw me with my hands on a bloodied knife; you had a killer staring at you from down the hall. I'm glad you ran. I'm not sure I could handle it if anything happened to you, Chuck.”
My palms are sweaty when I lift them up and lay them on Church's muscular upper arms, surprised yet again that the coffee-obsessed prince of the school is so buff beneath his uniform and cultured exterior. Pleasantly surprised, my brain reminds me, and I'm glad the lights are now off so he can't see exactly how red I'm getting.
Our mouths brush, just the slightest touch of lips, and a sea of butterflies takes off in my belly, making me feel dizzy. We can't have a full-on make out session with the other guys in the room, now can we, I tell myself, but it's hard to figure out group dating etiquette when, you know, there really isn't any available.
The hot, slick tip of Church's tongue teases along my lower lip, and I shiver, curling my fingers around his biceps. He presses further as I gently open my mouth and welcome him in; it's impossible to miss the fact that his hand is sliding ever closer to the sweet spot between my thighs.
Unfortunately, that's also the same moment that I notice movement behind Church's shoulder and glance up to see a shadow looming on the other side of the shoji screen. There's the faint outline of a person peering in at us, and my breath catches—but for completely different reasons than before.
Church stiffens up and glances over his shoulder. Before I can even think about how to handle the situation, he's pushing up to his feet and heading for the door. The person on the other side takes off as he slides the screen open.
“Wake the others up!” he hisses, and then he takes off running.
“Fuck,” I grumble, shoving up to my bare feet before using one to kick at Ranger's shoulder. “Get up, trouble!”
He snaps awake in an instant, but I'm already taking off after Church. I ran away from him before; I won't let him chase down a murderer by himself.
My naked feet slap against the wood planks outside as I chase after Church and the shadow, fireflies dancing in the air around the courtyard. The shadow person rounds the corner first, but Church isn't far behind.
