Page 56 of Atlas
She shrugs. “Someone rougher. Scarier.” Her voice softens. “Less kind.”
I take the plate from her hands and set it down on the counter beside her. “You think I’m kind, Rue?”
Her lashes lower. “I think you’re trying to be.”
I lean in just a little. “Only with you.”
She exhales shakily, and I swear, if I moved an inch, we’d be kissing. But I don’t. Not yet.
“I should, uh, get dessert,” she says, slipping to the side, brushing against me again as she heads for the fridge.
She opens the door and pulls out a large glass dish containing some kind of chocolate thing, topped with whipped cream and raspberries.
She turns. “It’s just store-bought. I didn’t have time to—”
I kiss her.
There’s no warning, no slow lean-in, no testing the waters. Just the thud of need in my chest and her scent in the air and the way her lips part in surprise, like she’s been holding her breath for me this whole damn time.
The dessert shakes slightly in her hand, cream tipping at the edge of the dish, but she doesn’t drop it.
I cup her face with one hand, the other settling on her waist as I deepen the kiss — slow but claiming. She tastes like strawberries or chocolate and something uniquelyher.
Rue breathes into my mouth, her free hand curling into my shirt. I feel her fingers tighten, like she’s anchoring herself. Like she doesn’t trust her legs to hold her steady.
When I finally pull back, her lashes flutter open. Her cheeks are flushed. Her chest rises and falls like she’s just run a mile.
I glance down at the dessert between us. “You didn’t drop it.”
She looks too dazed to speak at first. Then she swallows and mutters, “I like chocolate.”
I smile. “Noted.”
She stares at me for a second longer, then turns abruptly, setting the dessert down on the table.
Her voice is a little shaky when she speaks again. “You want coffee, or . . . ?”
“Rue.”
She pauses.
I step behind her, close enough that my chest nearly brushes her back. I lower my mouth to her ear.
“I want you.”
She shivers.
Then, she slowly turns to face me, cheeks still flushed and lips swollen, and says, “I thought you might.”
Rue
I shut my eyes. My throat works on a swallow. My body says yes. God, it screams it. But there’s this old fear lodged inside my chest, tangled up with nerves and memories I wish I could forget.
I turn slowly, heart pounding like it’s about to rip from my chest.
When I look up at him, I say it before I can lose the nerve. “I’ve only done this once.”
Atlas stills. His eyes scan mine, but not in a predatory way. It’s soft. Focused. Careful.
