Crazy, crazy, how can this be?
He brings his head back up next to mine, staring directly into my eyes. My breath catches in anticipation, and that beautiful flash of heat and tingling roars through me once more.
He kisses me very, very gently. Our lips and tongues come together over and over, the soft sound barely discernible in the silence of the apartment. It’s like I’m addicted to him, that I just can’t get enough. Even now, in the morning, he still tastes wonderful, enough to make me want to come back again and again so that his flavor never leaves my mouth for longer than a split second.
After a long kissing session, he pulls back, smoothing my hair down. His little half-grin is back, making it so that, if I were standing, I’d probably drop like a rock due to weak knees.
“What are you thinking?” I rub my hand against the morning stubble decorating his chin.
“I am thinking that I cannot believe I am here with you right now,” he admits in an extremely low, alluring voice.
I have no doubt why women fall at this guy’s feet, why they’re all crazy about him. He is so amazingly sexy.
“I know, I know,” I admit. “This is crazy.” Wrong. And yet . . . right?
“Absolutely,” he agrees, grinning. “Insane.”
“Are you upset this happened?” I whisper, tracing his jaw line down to his neck with a finger.
He studies me for a long moment. “It’s okay to feel conflicted right now. I’m conflicted, too. But I need to tell you this.” His eyes hold me still, his words soft against my conscience. “The last thing I am right now is upset. Do you understand me?”
I trace his collarbone all the way across his chest. He shivers, despite the apartment not being chilly in the least.
And now it’s his turn for his cell phone to ring. When he makes no move to answer it, I murmur, “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
He hesitates, but eventually sighs, holding a hand out. I reach over and grab his phone off the coffee table. And a huge bucket of ice water crashes down over me, because, it’s Jonah calling.
I drop the phone on his chest, my hand is shaking so hard.
Kellan sees my terror; his own hand trembles when he picks up the phone. He squeezes his eye shut briefly before taking a deep breath. When he answers the phone, he sounds like his normal self, not somebody who has been making out with his brother’s fiancée. Only his hand gives anything away. “Hey, J.”
I am unable to move, immobilized in fear. Oh gods, oh gods, what if . . .?
“Oh, sorry about that,” Kellan is saying calmly, “I had a lot on my mind. Kinda needed radio silence, if you know what I mean?”
I have no idea what to do. I AM THE WORST PERSON TO EVER LIVE.
“Oh, uh . . . actually, I’m at Chloe’s right now . . . we’ve been . . .” He closes his eyes again. “Talking about what happened.” I marvel in a weird mix of dismay and admiration at how he can make these words the truth and yet a lie, too. “I think her phone’s off; maybe that’s why you couldn’t get through.”
Kellan holds the phone out to me; I can’t take it. I’m too damned scared. “It’s Jonah,” he says, as if I already don’t know. When I leave the phone dangling, he places a hand gently on my head; courage I didn’t have before blooms, small as it is. I take the phone, hands shaking harder than before.
What do I do? What should I say? How can I ever, EVER explain any of this? Jonah’s name breaks apart as it falls out of my mouth.
Static hisses over the line. “Chloe, it is so good to hear your voice right now. I was really worried when I couldn’t get through to you or my brother.”
I am an awful, horrible, evil person. I don’t deserve his worry. His love. I close my eyes and fervently pray I’ll wake up from this nightmare of my own making. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just, I usually can get ahold of one of you, especially Kellan, you know? I had this brief, fleeting panic that maybe the Elders had tracked you down once more.” He laughs, like he’s somehow to blame. “It figures that once I actually get a cell signal, I can’t actually get ahold of either of you.”
Kellan lays his head back down against the couch, watching me intently as I flounder on the phone.
I hate lying to Jonah. We never lie to one another. But if I don’t lie, I’ll lose him. I can’t lose him. I can’t.
I can’t.
“I’m sorry . . . my phone got turned off last night,” I whisper.
“Chloe, honey, you’re cutting out on me,” Jonah says, static filling my ear from his end. He’s right. My self-respect is cutting out big time.