Page 169 of Vicious Butterfly
A tidal wave of energy seems to swirl around us, and I get hit with body-wrecking emotion. My chest heaves, and trails of wetness pour down my cheeks.
“What’s happening to me?”
“Tate, are you crying?”
“No,” I practically sob. Don’t fucking get it, though. I’m not hurt. Not scared; not exactly. Maybe some of that irrational terror I always feel now—that something will happen to Ryan—is there. Which, by the way, is about to become completely unmanageable now that I’m in love with him.
“I hate this. Why won’t it stop?”
“Do you know what brought it on?”
“I … I think it was being here with you.”
“Me?”
I take his hand and put it over my heart, and then I rest my forehead on his, nodding. My breath hitches intermittently, my nose clogs, forcing me to sniffle. “Fuck, I love you so damn much, Ryan.”
And then I find his heartbeat. His chest rises and falls against mine.
This.
This makes nothing else matter. Whatever’s going on inside my brain quiets. The constant buzzing under my skin finally stops.
There’s only peace.
33
RYAN
It’s noon on Sunday, but the rest of the condo is still asleep. Griff, Cooper, and I should be at North Point. If we really are going back, we’re all getting so many demerits for this not being signed out. Hell, I’m not supposed to be signed out at all.
Sleeping next to Tate’s still a novelty for me. We haven’t done it much. And I guess he thinks so, too, because we slept wrapped around each other. But the space next to me is empty. Still warm. A spring breeze blows in from the veranda. Covering myself with a blanket, because Tate will probably bitch if I go out there naked where anyone can see me, I pad across the carpet. My feet meet cool stone.
Tate’s there, forearms resting on the balcony ledge, like the way he rests on the boards, staring at the city as if he’s watching a hockey game. All he’s wearing is a pair of black boxer shorts. He still thinks he has to be invincible. I don’t think I’ll ever convince him otherwise; Jasper beat it into him too deeply, but this moment has been chasing him, and it’s finally caught him. The turmoil on his face is the same as whenever Jasper comes up.
I slide up to him, opening the blanket and wrapping him up with me. Our hot skin presses together.
“You’re naked,” he says.
“Mm-hmm.”
He pulls the blanket around us tighter, making sure no one can see an inch of me. I guess someone could see us if they were spying from a nearby building, but no one from the street is going to see me up here. He’s in the penthouse. I stare at nothing with him.
“Did you believe me?” he asks.
“About Jasper?” I knew his mind was there.
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you’re happy he’s gone.”
“I was at first. But then it was boring. He gave me purpose. A villain needs another villain.”
I laugh. “I think you mean an antihero needs a villain, baby.”
He shrugs. “I said what I said.”
“Did you really kill him?”
