His tongue trails from the side of my chin to the corner of my mouth. I'm frozen on spot, barely breathing. When he pulls away, his eyes are the same shimmering silver I had seen the other night. My breathing spikes, and his eyes dart to my mouth. B...
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This chapter is dedicated to NamelessJa because they were the last one to comment on the last chapter (even if that comment was full of sarcasm and mild amounts of salt), and because they're constantly supporting this book, so thanks, cupcake~ You make a baker feel warm (and attacked, but in a good way).
— 23 —
I just stare at him, processing everything, but I can't seem to form a coherent thought. Chase... cares about me? But... he just... I mean, he just said that he did, but that doesn't... does it? Have I been...
I let out a shaky breath and force myself to stop thinking. "I need a shower," I decide. I can't think about anything with him this close.
"There's one down the hallway," he offers, looking at me like he can read my mind. "Of course, I could also take you home—"
I shake my head. "I don't want to go home," I say before he can finish. One, I'm too tired to deal with Cassadee right now, and, two, despite how rundown this place is, it's comfortable.
"All right," he agrees. "Towels are in the closet next to the bathroom."
"Thanks," I say but don't make any effort to move.
I really need to be alone, to think and organize and just... breathe, but... but I also want to stay like this, leaning against him with his arms around me. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathes is weirdly comforting despite the fact that there isn't a heartbeat to go with it.
It makes me feel... I don't know. Sorta solid, I think.
Chase chuckles, and I can feel it through my entire body. "Aren't you going?"
"Right," I say, shaking myself as I stand up.
He chuckles again, and I glare at him, getting the distinct feeling he knows what's going on. With a burning face, I head down the narrow hallway and quickly grab two towels from the closet he mentioned before locking myself in the bathroom.
The walls and flooring are somehow worse in here than in the living room, which is impressive really. Water stains are all over the flamingo pink wallpaper. I have nothing against the color pink—obviously—but of all the shades of pink, who the hell would choose flamingo pink for anything, let alone their bathroom? On top of that, the tile is some off-white, nearly grey color that has some of the ugly pink spotted in it.
Grumbling, I pull back the white curtain—the only thing in the bathroom that looks new—and turn on the water, waiting until steam rises in the room before stepping in.
At first, I let the hot water roll over me, burning my skin, trying not to think...
Just like you hurt when they're hurt, love, they hurt when you're hurt.
