Page 23 of Aftershock
Guess not, since she just whistles and walks off to arrange the shelves like nothing happened.
“Alaric.” My name from Lilith’s mouth, fuck me.
“Yes?”
She gives the cup a little shake, her fingers wrapped around the coffee sleeve. “Your order.”
“Right.”
But I don’t reach for it.
Not yet.
While I still have an excuse, I stay rooted in place, soaking up every inch of her. Inhaling her sweet scent. Cataloging each breath she takes and the blush creeping up her throat.
I indulge in her presence, knowing that this, right here, is as close as I can ever get to Lilith.
Should, anyway.
Someone clears their throat behind me.
“Sorry,” I murmur, though I’m not sorry in the slightest.
Lilith winks, but doesn’t slide over the cup to speed things up.
It’s as if she wants me to touch her.
I.
Shouldn’t.
Fuck it.
I reach out, my fingers brushing hers over the cup. Heat surges through my chest. My hand burns where our skin meets.
I’m this close to hurling the cup across the room, slinging Lilith over my shoulder, and storming out of here.
We could disappear.
Then I’d become this person I’m not, one who lets abusers roam the streets, consequence-free.
Yeah…not going to happen.
“Thank you,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You’re welcome.” She doesn’t seem to mind my surly attitude. In fact, she’s blushing harder for it.
I have to get away, or I’ll really do something I’ll regret.
Without another word, I spin on my heel and stalk out of the cafeteria. Out of the hospital.
Sadly, the fresh air doesn’t taste sweet.
Not at fucking all.
It tastes stale.
Bland.
