Page 27 of Depraved
So, I tell her a half-truth.
“Because you mean a lot to my brothers. What’s important to them becomes important to me. Simple as that.”
Her eyes crease in the corner from her fond look at the mention of Dominic and Luca. She looks beautiful when she does that.
“Or, maybe I’m doing this for good karma,” I add, smirking.
She grins wider. “Your smile gives away your lie.”
“You don’t believe in karma?”
“No, and neither do you, or you’d never take matters into your own hands. And I don’t believe that you actually think any decision you make is wrong,” she accuses humorously, pushing at my shoulder.
I reach up and grab her wrist as she does it, locking eyes. Hers search mine, and I swear I can see a debate brewing in her mind. She wants to tell me something, but the minute she looks away, I’m certain she’s thought better of it.
My eyes drift down to the hand I’m still holding, and I gently flip it over, leaving her palm up. I begin to trace the uneven lines and crevices etched into her flawless skin as I speak.
“True. But what does the reason matter so long as you get a hand with these assholes?”
“You say that as if I asked for your help,” she says quietly, watching my fingers skim against her skin.
I can’t help but want to touch her. Whatever’s going on between us, like this, is as electric as the anger she has for me.
“No, but you’ll take it…eventually. Because you are far from stupid, and you know when to submit.” She scowls at my choice of words, but I grin. “That look is my favorite.”
“You’re exhausting,” she breathes out.
“Only because you’re fighting it,” I counter.
“Fighting what, exactly? Your assistance or your advances?” she challenges, leveling a glare at me.
“You hate me now, but that shit’s like throwing gasoline on the fire. You might not want my help, but that won’t stop you from wanting me, Billy…and after last week, I’m not so sure which one you actually want me to ask permission for. Because forcing my kindness takes away you feeling weak for asking. And forcing your body…well, that just gives you what you crave.”
“Shut up,” she whispers, biting her lip.
Just like I thought.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Billy. I dare you.”
I start to let go of her hand, so I can lean in to kiss her, and her eyes dart down.
“That’s the love line,” she blurts out, obviously hoping for a subject change or a reprieve.
I run my finger over the small crease that she pointed out nestled inside her palm, grinning because I’ve made her nervous.
“It’s supposed to tell you how many times you’ll marry and how long you’ll stay in love. If you believe in that stuff.” She shrugs, suddenly seeming shy.
Since when does Sarah get shy?
“Why is yours so short?” I tease, with a smirk, but it drops as a small frown tugs at her lips.
She gently twists her wrist from my hand and pushes to stand, keeping her eyes from mine. She traces the line on her palm, and her eyes grow sadder before she speaks.
“Because all the space in my heart is taken up by my hate.”
I don’t like any part of what she just said because it speaks to me. It mimics me. Like two broken mirrors aimed at each other, aligned with the same cracks.
I stand, locking eyes with her and taking her chin between my fingers. “We’ll see, Billy. Don’t tap out yet. You still have time.”
