And for once, his eyes aren’t dead. They’re on fire.
And they’re focused directly. On. Me.
34
All’s Fair
in Love and
Earthquakes
I stare back at him, not sure what to expect…or what to do. There’s a part of me that thinks he’s going to back up and a part of me that really hopes he doesn’t. A part of me that wonders what it would feel like to kiss him and a part of me that thinks I should run for the hills, because Jaxon might not be an alien, but he’s not like any boy I’ve ever met, either. And I am more than honest enough to admit that, much as I may want him, there’s no way I can actually handle him.
In the end, he doesn’t kiss me. But he doesn’t back up, either. And neither do I. So we stand there for I don’t know how long, him looking down, me looking up, the air between us loaded, heavy, electric.
I’m in it now, captivated by everything Jaxon is and everything he isn’t, despite my misgivings. I wait for him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at me with those midnight eyes of his, emotion he rarely shows seething right below the surface. It makes me ache for him. Makes me physically hurt as I remember the question he asked earlier, the one that started all this.
I finally have the words—or in this case, the word—to answer him. “Overwhelming,” I say just as he starts to slide the blanket from my shoulders.
He freezes, the blanket, and his hands, hovering somewhere around the middle of my back. “What are you talking about?”
“You asked me what it was like to just let go and purge my emotions the way I did. It feels overwhelming sometimes, even a little terrifying. But what you just did for me…made me feel safe in a way I haven’t in quite a while. So thank you. Seriously.”
“Grace…”
I take one step closer, until my breasts are just brushing against his chest. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’ve never made a move on a guy in my life, and Jaxon isn’t just any guy. I’m flying blind, but that doesn’t matter now. Nothing does except touching him somehow.
I want him to feel the strength of my arms around him, the softness of my body against his. And I want to feel the warm power of him against my own.
Except he’s not warm at all, that hoodie of his obviously no defense against the weather, despite what he said.
“Jaxon, you’re freezing!” I pull the blanket from his hands and throw it around his shoulders before wrapping it all the way around him. Then I rub my hands up and down his blanket-covered arms, trying to chafe some warmth back into him.
“I’m fine,” he says, trying to back away.
“You’re obviously not fine. I’ve never felt anyone as cold as you are right now.”
“I’m fine,” he insists again, and this time he does take a step back. Several steps, in fact.
Everything inside me stops. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your personal space…” I break off, because I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know what I’ve done that is so wrong.
“Grace…” His voice trails off, too. And in that moment, he looks different than all the other times. He isn’t confident, isn’t amused, isn’t even stoically silent as he was when I was yelling at him in the art studio.
No, right now he just looks…vulnerable.
There’s a desire in his eyes, a craving that has nothing to do with wanting me and everything to do with needing me. Needing my comfort. Needing my touch.
I can no more deny him than I can jump off this tower and fly under my own power. So I follow his retreat, taking the steps that bring my body back into contact with the hardness of his. Then I cup his face in my hands, stroke my thumbs over his ridiculous cheekbones and my fingers over the jagged edges of his scar.
His breath catches—I hear it in his chest, feel it against me. And though my heart is beating faster than triple time, I don’t back away. I can’t. I’m dazzled, mesmerized, enthralled.
All I can think about is him.
All I can see is him.
All I can smell and hear and taste is him.
And nothing has ever felt so right.
“Can I ask you a question?” I move even closer to him, unable to stop myself. Unwilling to stop myself.
For a second, I think he’s going to take a step back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he opens up the blanket and wraps it around me, too, so that his arms are around my waist and we’re both sheltered within it. “Of course.”