Page 42 of Meet Me In The Dark
We step out into the California sunshine, each pulling our car keys from our pockets. Nathan pauses and looks at me over the roof of his car like he’s debating whether to push it.
He decides not to.
Wise move.
“The team’s already there,” I say, sliding into my driver’s seat. “See you in ten.”
He dips his chin, already climbing into his car. “Don’t scare this one off, Julian. I want to get back home.”
I laugh and shake my head as I pull onto the street. “No promises.”
But as I drive, I’m not thinking about the pitch, or the fact that Nathan’s going to be clock-watching the whole damn time.
All I can think about is her.
No name.
Just trembling skin under my hands and the faintest hitch in her breath when I touched her, the blindfold hiding eyes I haven’t seen but can’t stop imagining.
Ten
Celeste
There’s not a lot I’m sure of right now, but I think I’ve changed.
I’ve got faint dark circles under my eyes, the kind that suggest I’ve either been crying or haven’t slept, and the messy knot on top of my head is leaning a little too far to the left.
I trace two fingers over the curve of my cheekbone, like I’ll find the difference if I press hard enough.
All I find is me.
The same me, and yet not.
I feel quiet, as if something inside me has been rewired, and nowthe static is gone.
It’s been five days since the club.
Five days since I let a stranger lay claim to every part I’ve spent years pretending didn’t need anything. Five days since I surrendered control and discovered something I didn’t even realize I was missing.
Five days, and I still haven’t stopped thinking about it.
I slept like the dead that night and drifted off aching in ways I didn’t know were possible. The next morning, my body was sore, but in such a delicious way. There was a dull ache deep in my core, one that throbbed when I moved too fast or sat too still.
And on the inside of my thigh, there was a bite mark.
A fucking bite mark.
I’d sat on the edge of my bed with my fingers grazing over it. I thought I might have dreamed it, but the heat that pooled between my legs when I pressed down gently was very, very real.
He’d marked me.
Whoever he was, he wanted to leave something behind.
I did everything I could to forget. I took the longest shower of my life, turned up the temperature until my skin turned red and raw, and washed every inch of myself like I could scrub the memory away.
It didn’t work because when I finally gave in, dropped the towel, and slid my hand between my thighs, I came harder than I have since that night. To the thought of him. His mouth. His hands. His voice in my ear. My toes curled against the floor tiles, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out like a goddamn lunatic.
Then I cried anyway because I don’t know what thehell happened that night, but something inside me cracked open and hasn’t closed since.
