Page 69 of Sinful Desires
She hacked up water and spit it to the side, her red hair sticking to her cheeks. Then she jolted like she’d just woken up to her own humiliation.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snapped, voice raw, hands weak as they shoved at my chest.
I stepped back.
“Didn’t ask for your help,” she added, trying to sit up straighter.
“Oh, yeah? And the fountain didn’t ask to be your grave either. Looks like neither of us got a fucking choice.”
She looked like she wanted to slap me, but her hands were shaking too hard to even make a fist. She wiped her face instead, smearing her mascara into war paint.
“If I knew you’d come up swinging, I’d have let the fountain finish the job.”
“Fuck you.”
“There she is,” I said, folding my arms. “Back from the dead and full of charm.”
She curled in on herself, trying to hold on to warmth she didn’t have.
“Where are your parents?” I asked, not sure why I cared.
She snorted, the laugh bitter and broken. “Don’t know,” she muttered, eyes going distant. “Probably off drinking and pretending to be perfect.”
Her face was a mess—puffy, blotchy, dark bags beneath her eyes, bloodshot veins snaking across her skin.
“Do you have a cigarette?” she asked, her voice soft, desperate even, as she shifted on the bench, trying to make herself comfortable even though she was shaking so hard I thought she might collapse.
I dropped to one knee in front of her, close enough to catch the sharp mix of whiskey and vodka clinging to her skin. “This is my last day. Been working here for two fucking years. I’m not letting my name get tangled up in some mess because you’re too far gone to handle your shit. Call someone for help.”
I straightened up, ready to turn and leave, but then her hand shot out, grabbing the wrist of my jacket. Her grip was weak, but desperate.
“Please.I don’t have anybody,” she muttered, her voice small, almost like she was saying it to herself.
I glanced down at her hand, her fingers curled around my jacket, and for a second, I thought about walking away anyway. I let out a low breath, trying to shake off the stupid pity I felt creeping in.
Should’ve just let the pretty girl drown.
I jerked my wrist free. “Where’s your phone?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Her wide eyes flicked around before landing on the fountain, then she pointed at it dramatically.
“Um?…?I might’ve?…?thrown it in there?” She giggled awkwardly, hands wringing in her lap, looking like she’d just realized how much trouble she was actually in. “Oops.”
“Right,” I muttered, glancing at the spot where she’d almost taken herself out. “It’s swimming with the fish now, huh?”
She let out a hiccup and tried to stand, but she slipped. I caught her. Her whole body now pressed up against the front of my jacket, soft, soaked, and shivering.
“You good?” I muttered.
She tilted her head back, lashes wet, pupils wide and wild. “Mhm,” she said, but her knees didn’t get the memo. She snorted. Hiccuped again.
“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath. Without another word, I slid an arm under her knees, the other around her back, and lifted her. The second I had her off the ground, her arms circled around my neck. “Let’s get you out of here.”
She sighed, her breath warm on my throat.
I carried her across the garden, the gravel crunching under my boots, moonlight peeling silver off her soaked dress. Her fingers curled at the back of my neck, nails dragging slightly beneath the collar of my jacket, a barely-there scrape that somehow still made me grit my teeth.
“Who are you?”
