Page 35 of Alliance

The high of the alcohol makes me sway as I step down from the entrance and smile, laughing at myself for the show of my drunkenness. Naz chuckles too, he leans his back against the brick wall outside the bar and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

The act is disgusting, but there’s something attractive about Naz as he lights one of the cigarettes. A small chunk of black hair strays from his mane, falling onto his face as he blows out the smoke. I feel like a high school stoner, high on the sight of him.

Maybe I’m just addicted to the only bit of happiness I’ve had in what feels like forever. My days have been repetitive, the only thing to shake them up is Davis’ abuse.

Being with Naz is the only time I’ve smiled since my grandfather died.

He’s the only bit of light I have. But our moments are stolen. Pockets of time we’re not allowed to have. It feels forbidden, that if anyone caught us, we’d be dragged apart kicking and screaming.

And we know that, because we’ve been here before, driven away from each other in separate cars. Worry gnawed at me the entire time, if he would have been killed because of me, I would have never been able to live with myself.

Who am I to have such power over someone’s life? That my actions could lead to life or death consequences. It grates at me, I don’t want him to be punished because of me. It’s not his fault that I was born to a family that doesn’t value women’s rights. That sees me as a currency rather than a human being.

Why should he die for that?

“You’re stuck up here,” Naz says, tapping his finger against the side of his skull. He takes another drag of the cigarette and I watch how his lips meet the filter, somehow feeling jealous of the cancer stick.

He’s right. I am stuck in my head. Flying through thoughts of his lips on my skin and knowing how dangerous this game we’re playing is.

There’s a feeling buzzing through my body. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the high of doing something forbidden. But there’s only one word I can think of to describe it:reckless.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit.

Naz smiles at my words, a kind of lopsided smirk that makes my stomach somersault. “I don’t have a fucking clue, babe,” he says, the words leaving his lips with a throaty laugh. “You’re like fucking poison, but for some reason I want to taste every drop.” He drops the cigarette, snubbing it out with the toe of his boot.

His eyes linger on the pavement before rising to meet mine. The look he gives me is different than before, he drags his bottom lip between his teeth and my thighs clench. My body is developing an automatic response to the hunger in his gaze.

“Naz,” I whisper, but it doesn’t come out sounding like a warning. It’s breathy and high pitched.

“Lana,” he says, his voice mocking me. “Just say the word.” His tone is daring, but I think we both want to repeat our mistakes.

Leaning in, he presses his lips against mine. It feels like jumping off a cliff. As soon as our mouths meet I feel the chords snap. I’m no longer attached to my parents. No longer engaged. The weight of my body drifts away and I forget all of it.

His hands find my arms and his fingers squeeze into my flesh. The bite brings me to life, hooks me into the moment. I can’t get into his Jeep fast enough. My hands refuse to leave him, my fingers ache to feel him, to touch every inch of his body.

I’m addicted to the moment as my heart pounds in my chest and I can’t get his jeans down fast enough. His tongue darts across his lips and I think he feels this too. He leans into me, slamming the back door of the Jeep closed behind him. I can feel the throb in his chest, his heart beating so loudly, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

My skin burns underneath the heat of his touch. He slides the skirt of my dress up, baring my panties. His lips form a sensual smirk as his fingers race along the edge of the fabric feeling the wetness already gathered there. “How fucking needy are you for me, babe?”

My breath hitches at his question and he chuckles lowly as he swipes a finger beneath the fabric. He tugs the material to the side and slips in a finger.

I moan immediately from the sensation.

“I almost died because of you,” he whispers, and I think he should be angrier. Or maybe sound more scared. But he states it like a fact. Just a piece of information we both know.

“Maybe they’ll bury me next to you,” I retort, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and pushing him down further. I need his touch, need him to take care of me in the way only he can.

His eyes flicker with amusement and the sight makes me smile. I want to see that look again. Want to be the one that makes his eyes gleam. I can picture waking up to that smile, letting it be the first thing I see every day.

“Oh, baby.” He laughs. “They’ll burn us.”

I push all the thoughts from my head. I don’t remind myself that we’re both playing with a loaded gun. That this could all end in a moment, a single shot and it’s over.

Life.

Death.

Everything just hangs in the balance.

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