Page 69 of The Savior

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Lightning streaked. Thunder cracked. It was almost as if Mother Nature was shouting for Liam’s attention. But he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

Rain pelted sideways. The intensity drummed, roaring against the windows.

Several cracks of thunder rolled, and the lights blinked on for a flash, then stayed dark again. It was enough to break the tension.

“On that note.” The corners of his lips turned. “I’ll head out before it gets worse.”

“Liam.” Chelsea shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t go out in that.”

He probably should. The cold water and crashes would keep his mind clear. The wind howled. All he had to do was walk out the door. “Promise I won’t melt.”

Warily, she glanced at the windows. Again, thunder and lightning exploded loudly enough to make Chelsea jump. “Melting isn’t my worry.”

He walked across the living room to the windows and pressed his forehead to the cold glass. The rain hit with such power that he could feel them beat against the window.

Her footsteps quietly came close, and her arm grazed his when she stopped to stare into the dark.

Electricity skipped to his neck and somersaulted down his spine. The palm of his hands tingled. Hell. He had to go. But he didn’t move a damn muscle.

“The worst will be over soon,” she whispered.

Liam closed his eyes. He prayed that was true. Not the storm—who cared about the lightning—but the deep, intense need that had him trapped, where he couldn’t pull away and didn’t want to.

Another slice of lighting followed by a thunderclap that shook the windows. It made Chelsea jump, and she laughed quietly. “I swear, I’m not scared of storms.”

He turned. “I didn’t think you were.”

Lightning struck and thunder rumbled again. “See?” She tilted her head toward the rain. “I didn’t jump that time…” Chelsea wouldn’t look him in his eyes. “Is the thunder farther apart?”

He didn’t say anything.

“The storm’s lessening.”

“Maybe so.” Time to go. But he didn’t want to leave. Liam studied her soft hair and her strong shoulders in the candlelight. He let his gaze drift down and stopped at the base of the window. Her fingers clung to the windowsill with such pressure her nails might leave marks. “What’s wrong, Chelsea?”

Stupid question. They both knew what was wrong.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered.

“What would happen if…” His chest ached, and Liam moved close behind her and stared out her window. “We told the truth?”

Rain rolled. The howl of wind picked up and faded again. “I don’t know.”

Liam removed the slip of distance between them. She stayed still as if he weren’t there and the swell of her ass didn’t rest against his body.

The scent of lemons and lavender teased. Her warmth ran through his blood like a rich, caramel shot of whiskey, and he broke the stranglehold that uncertainty had on him and brushed her hair to the side.

She quietly gasped but remained still.

His fingers skimmed across the nape of her neck. “Tell me to leave. Tell me to get the hell out.”

Then he prayed, for her, for him, that he hadn’t fucked up their newfound friendship because of the carnal daydreams he imagined about their slick naked bodies wrapped together.

“Tell me to go.” And he prayed that she’d say no.

Her uneven breaths mirrored the cadence of his, and still she said nothing—which was answer enough. She didn’t say go but hadn’t said stay.

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