Fated (23 page)

I felt my cheeks heat and I was glad that he couldn’t see my reaction in the darkness.

"What brings you here?"

He shrugged. "It’s a long story."

Though we obviously had plenty of time, I figured that was his way of saying he didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t press.

He fell quiet again.

"You don’t talk much, do you?"

He shrugged again. "Don’t have much to say."

We walked in silence the rest of the way to my house. As much as I normally hated the quiet, ours wasn’t the torturous silence that I’d detested for so long. No, it was quite the opposite. Our silence was highly charged, full and alive, though not with words. It crackled with electricity and hinted at dark and dangerous things, secret things. Passionate things.

I could never remember wanting to reach out and touch someone so badly in all my life.

My fingertips literally tingled with the desire to run them through his hair and test the muscles of his thick chest.

With his wide shoulders and trim waist, he looked like an athlete and I wanted to ask him about his time at Southmoore, whether or not he played sports, but I’d apparently have to wait until he was more inclined toward loquaciousness, if ever there was such a state for him.

I was disappointed to see my house come into view and even more so to see my mom’s car in the driveway.

"This is me," I said, turning to step up onto the walkway that led to the front door.

He nodded and stopped on the sidewalk.

"Well, um, thanks for walking me home," I said, suddenly feeling nervous.

"No problem."

I felt silly waiting, but I was hesitant to leave his quiet company. I was hoping he’d have something else to say, anything that might prolong the night.

"Ok, so, um, I guess I’ll see you at school," I said, taking a slow step backward.

Again, he nodded.

I nodded, too, turning to walk to the house. Then it occurred to me that, since he was new, he might be looking for some social interaction. Granted, he didn’t seem like the social type
at all,
but who was I to judge or make assumptions like that? The right and proper thing to do would be to invite him to Caster’s party. So what if I was reaching. Sue me.

"Hey," I said, whirling around and stepping back toward him. "There’s a party tomorrow night at Caster’s cabin in the hills. You should stop by."

The invitation was out before I could even think about how fraught with problems a situation such as that would be. After all, I was going with a date, and not just any date. I was going with the same date I’d had for over a year, the date that I had semi-concrete plans to break up with.

He sort of wagged his head in a way that was neither positive nor negative. "Maybe I will," he said, but to my ears it sounded like a platitude.

"Unless parties aren’t your thing," I offered, giving us both a way out. I wasn’t sure who needed one more—him or me.

"Actually, they’re not," he said, stepping up onto the walkway. "But I can think of one really good reason that this one might be more to my liking."

Before I could stop myself, I raised my hand to my chest, as if to still the erratic beating there before any of my organs flew from my body. Bo was standing so close to me, his jacket brushed the backs of my fingers. I was struck by the thought that all I’d have to do is to turn my hand over and I could feel the thump of his heart. The desire to touch him was nearly overwhelming. We were so close, but I wanted to be closer still.

The world came to a breathless halt when I saw his hand come out of his pocket. As if it happened in slow motion, it rose toward my face and my eyes locked on his. He swept the backs of his fingers down my cheek in a feather-light caress.

"I want to kiss you," he whispered.

Spellbound and tongue-tied, I just nodded, hoping he understood that I was granting him permission.

"And you want me to kiss you," he continued.

The only thing I could’ve added to that was,
More than anything.

"But I shouldn’t," he said, a frown wrinkling his otherwise smooth, pale forehead. "It’s not a good idea for you to be involved with someone like me."

Someone like me.

A warning bell rang somewhere in the back of my befuddled mind. In a way, I knew, had known from first that first day, that he was dangerous. I didn’t doubt what he was telling me was true, and that he was right. I should probably turn and run. The problem was, I didn’t want to. I didn’t care how dangerous or how ill-advised being with him was. I didn’t care about warnings or caution. I didn’t care about consequences or rationale. I only cared about this—this night, this moment, this kiss.

When finally I found my tongue, I asked, "Then why are you here?"

To this, he smiled. It was a wry, self-deprecating twist of the lips. "Because I just can’t seem to stay away, no matter how hard I try."

Though it was hardly a compliment, pleasure blossomed in my belly anyway. He couldn’t stay away and I knew how that felt.

"What if I don’t want you to stay away?"

I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn’t help it. I could only pray that the end result wouldn’t be a heart burned up beyond all recognition.

"You’d be a fool."

"Brains are overrated," I quipped.

For the first time, he really smiled, a spread of the lips that revealed straight white teeth and caused his eyes sparkle. It was a gesture that made my legs feel like melted butter.

"You should at least think about it," he said, holding my chin still between his thumb and forefinger. "The only problem is, you might decide I’m right." His smile dissolved into another frown, his eyes darting between my lips and my eyes. "And just in case you do, just in case you want me to stay away, there’s one thing I need to do before I go."

With a tug on my chin to part my lips, Bo bent his head and kissed me.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun, but somehow it still managed to turn my stomach inside out. Even after he’d lifted his head, I could feel the imprint of his mouth. It was etched onto my mind and burned onto my lips.

I opened my eyes in time to see his tongue sneak out, as if he was savoring me.

"Mmm. You taste like candy, like strawberries and sugar."

"It’s my lip gloss," I said automatically.

He grinned again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were steamy and intense.

"No, it’s not. Trust me."

He bent his head to mine again and dragged his lips from the corner of my mouth, across my cheek to my ear.

"Goodnight, Ridley."

Mesmerized, I stood absolutely still and watched him go.