Foreigner

Chapter 41: Paranoia

His mouth is still on mine when the door closes behind him.

His clothes are soaked, his hair dripping cold into mine — but none of it matters because Christian is kissing me like he doesn't know where I end and he begins. His lips are cracked, hungry. His hands find my jaw, a little rough, like they've been waiting a thousand years.

My back hits the wall. I gasp into him, but he swallows it whole.

This is not careful. This is not quiet.

This is stupid.

"Christian," I murmur against his mouth, but he doesn't stop. His hands are in my hair now, dragging me closer like he could climb inside me if he just pulled hard enough. "Christian, you can't be here."

He ignores me.

His tongue brushes mine, and my knees almost give out. I grab at his hoodie for balance and hiss when he bites at my lower lip. He tastes like snow and fury, and I hate how fast I'm falling apart. I tilt my head and kiss him harder just to spite myself.

Then I force myself to break it.

I grip his hoodie tight in my fists and pull my face back an inch, panting. "You can't be here."

His eyes are wild. His chest heaves. His voice comes out low and husky. "Don't care."

"You should."

"No." He kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. "I don't care. I'm done staying quiet. I'm done letting them—" Another kiss, now just below my ear. "—take everything from me."

I breathe through my nose, trying to anchor myself, but it's impossible with him this close.

I shove my palms against his chest. "Christian. Listen."

He finally looks at me. Really looks.

"They're watching me. Vic is watching me. I'm in the Seven now because..." My voice cracks. "Because of what they know. Because of you."

His eyes flicker, not with surprise but annoyance.

"I know," he says quietly. "Dean told me."

"Then you know why you can't be here. If they see you with me — if they even think you're still in this—"

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. "Let them. Let them try."

I shake my head. "You don't understand—"

"I do."

A long silence. Our breath mixes in the narrow space between us. I let myself relax for a moment, enjoying our proximity. It's like I've been in withdrawal for the past two weeks, and now I've finally got my fix again.

"Why did you go after Dean?" I whisper after a while, my eyes closed.

His answer is immediate. Quiet.

"You."

The word lands heavy in my ribs, like a fist, like forgiveness, like fire.

I blink. My mouth goes dry. I reach for his hand and find it already waiting, fingers trembling, knuckles bruised.

I hold it tight.

"You shouldn't have done that," I whisper.

"Don't care."

"You're not invincible."

"Neither are you."

My throat closes. I want to say I'm sorry. I want to say thank you. I want to say something that means both at once. Instead, I mumble, "I'll take care of it. It'll all be okay."