Page 90 of Burn

“Liar.”

“I’m going to have newlywed sex now. Bye!” She drags the ‘e’ on bye, and I hang up.

I’m smiling, feeling a little high from the call, so I obviously forget my goal of avoiding my reflection and look up into the mirror.

Oh boy.

It’s not good.

I lean in, studying my nose, and I think it’s broken. I touch it, and hiss in a breath when even my gentle graze radiates pain across my cheekbones. Definitely broken. I’ve never broken a bone, and two realizations hit me at once. One, I kind of feel like a bad ass for surviving. Two, I’m primarily concerned aboutthe inevitable reaction a certain sleeping giant in the other room is going to have to my face.

Dark purple bruises spread out across both cheekbones. The blood vessels in my left eye are blown, making it look like I’m a zombie (also, kind of bad ass). There’s a prominent, new bump on the bridge of my nose, and given my aversion to surgeries of any kind, I don’t anticipate it’s going anywhere anytime soon. My long hair is a tangled mess, but at least it’s clean. All of me is clean, and that is the most powerful realization I have in the moment.

I’m not dirty because of him.

He didn’t ruin me.

I’m still me, but a little bit stronger, with some battle scars and an insane story.

I wonder how long I can milk this.

I’m daydreaming about going back to work, and Antonio asking me to do some mindless task that I’m way too qualified to handle, and responding with, ‘I can’t. I was attacked.’ When there’s a gentle knock on the door, it’s so soft that it, for once, doesn’t startle me. Adrian’s voice rumbles against it, so much more grumbly than usual.

“You okay in there?”

I try to smooth my disastrous hair, but it’s got a mind of its own. I rinse my mouth with water from the tap, wrinkle my sore nose at the eggy smell, then turn and open the door. I’m in the middle of coaching myself to be casual, cool, calm, but all that evaporates into the ether when my eyes land on Adrian fucking Liberty.

His one arm is propped up against the door frame. He’s got a light mark on his jaw; I assume from where Aaron got in a punch. Between the fight he was in at his hockey thing, and this, I think it’s safe to say I’m a fan of slightly tussled up Adrian,because heat floods my core. My gaze drops over his chest. His usually lean body is somehow leaner in the morning, and there are abs, on abs, on abs. Scanning lower, his knuckles are red, swollen, covered in cuts, and Ineedthem on my body.

When I finally land on his boxer-briefs, my mouth falls open, and my breathing picks up. It’s suddenly very hot in this room. The outline of his dick is clearly visible, and while he’s not completely erect, there’s definite thickness there.

“Lex?” he questions, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his general groin area.

“Yeah?” My voice is so breathy. It does nothing to hide my growing need.

He leans down, attempting to capture my attention, but I’m in some weird hypnotic state. I reach for him, barely making contact before he shoots back, out of reach, and gasps, “Whoa! Lex!”

I pout. The expression hurts, and that makes me pout more.

“Look at me, Lex, please. Fuck. This is really fucking with me.”

It takes real effort, but I manage to make eye contact. The guy is as white as a ghost.

“It’s not that bad,” I say, trying to ease his concern.

His brows are pinched together, and he looks at me like I sprouted an extra head overnight.

“Not that bad? It’s pretty bad, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Then, what?”

He rakes his hand through his hair, and I’m just noticing that it’s longer than he usually wears it. It looks nice. His bicep flexes, and the muscles down his side — I can’t remember the name of them — move and strain, too.

He’s so fucking hot.

“I… It’s just… shit, Lex. I don’t… I don’t think… I don’t want to mess you up… more…” He stammers, stumbling over the words.

And I freeze, ice creeping into my veins.

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