Page 66 of Beyond the Lines
fourteen
DECLAN
The lock clickswith a sound that seems impossibly loud in the tiny bathroom, and before I can really think through what I’m doing—locking a woman in an enclosed space and blocking her escape—we’re standing so close I can feel the heat radiating off Lea’s body.
“What the hell, Declan?” she demands, voice pitched low but vibrating with fury. “This isso fucking inappropriate! You could get expelled for this! Get out!”
I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she desperately tries to control her emotions. The space is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, and she’sright therein front of me, her eyes glassy, with tears threatening to spill over.
My chest constricts at the sight.
I put that look on her face.
“I didn’t hate your drawing,” I blurt out, totally moving past her words, though backing up an inch to hopefully show her I’m no threat.
She tries to laugh, but it comes out as a choked soundhalfway between a scoff and a sob as she backs away from me. “Right. Sure.”
“I didn’t.”
“Why are you lying?” A tear finally breaks free, tracking down her cheek. “You had thesamelook on your face as you did that night in class, when you wrote…” Her voice cracks, and she swallows hard. “Do you know that I haven’t been able to sketch anything decent since that class?”
I badly want to reach out for her, but she clearly wants a little distance, and the fact she hasn’t screamed for help or kicked me in the balls is enough for now. And honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing here, chasing after someone who clearly wants space…
Mike’s fucking sister, you idiot,my mind chimes in, helpfully.The chick who’s been furious at you for weeks…
I sigh, banishing the thought, and shift focus back to her. “Lea, you really need to let me explain?—”
“No, Declan, I don’tneedto do anything.” She’s not even trying to hide the tears now. “Every time I put pencil to paper, I hear your voice in my head, telling me I’m playing it safe. But you know whatfuckingcrushes me is that you’re right! And theonenight I took a risk, you lied to me, and gutted me…”
The puzzle piece falls into place, as loud as a cannon shot.
The lying wasn’t just about the fact that I was a hockey player. It was about the fact she’d taken a chance with a boy, so soon after she’d had her heart broken, and then had dirt kicked in her face. And then, just as she’d started to get over it, the guy doing the kicking—me—had criticized her publicly for not taking risks.
Fuck.
My stomach drops through the floor. After finally connecting the dots, the idea that I’ve damagedher confidence or that I’ve made her doubt her talent, it’s unbearable. But, somehow, I don’t feel like rehashing my excuses with her is the right approach. It’s time for offense, not defense.
“Your drawing was great, Lea,” I say.
“Stop lying,” she snaps. “You’ve got a bad poker face. I saw your reaction.”
I don’t know whether it’s desperation or stupidity or the way she looks with tears in her eyes and her chin tilted up defiantly, but I lean in and press my mouth to hers. She’s slow to react, and for a split second, I’m convinced she’s going to knee me in the balls. And, in preparation for that, her hands come up to my shoulders.
I brace for contact and crippling pain.
But then she’s grabbing fistfuls of my shirt, pulling me closer, and nothing about this makes any sense, but I don’t care because her lips are soft and warm. She opens her mouth against mine, making a desperate, angry sound that shoots straight to my groin.
This kiss is nothing like our first. This isn’t tender or exploring or sweet. This is pure emotion and want, like a panicked drowning person latching onto someone trying to rescue them, trying to pullthemunder as well.
Her teeth catch my lower lip, biting down hard enough to make me groan. I press her back against the sink, my hands sliding down to her hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks. She deserves better than this cramped bathroom, better than me, but I can’t make myself pull away.
“Ihateyou,” she whispers, but her body tells a different story as she arches into me. Her hands are moving frantically over my chest, my shoulders, and up into my hair where her fingers tangle and pull, sending shivers down my spine. “You make me feel so fuckingsmall.”
I grab her ass and lift her onto the edge of the sink, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me in tight against her center. My cock strains against my jeans, and when I roll my hips into hers, the friction is electric even through layers of denim.
“No you don’t,” I say, as I trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. “You’re just scared, and still in pain…”
She gasps, either from my words or my mouth, and in response I suck hard. I want to leave a mark, want everyone to know she’s been claimed, even though I have no right to claim her. And when I pull away, a smile creases the edge of my mouth, because there’s a fiery red reminder for her when she looks in the mirror.
