Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I hold her close. “Admit it, you’d be bored with a hero.”
18
“He had built himself from ruin. Stone by stone. Lie by lie.”—The Count of Monte Cristo
JUDE
The observatory sits above the main event space, hidden behind a winding staircase most people don't even notice. The higher we climb, the quieter it gets. The music below becomes nothing more than a dull pulse vibrating through the floorboards.
The dome overhead is open.
Stars spill across the sky.
For a second I forget why we're here.
Forget the list.
Forget my father.
Forget prison.
Forget all of it and hold her. I don’t remember her being so small in my arms, I suddenly want to protect her and keep her safe from the nightmares I’ve already experienced, not because she isn’t capable on her own but because she shouldn’t have to deal with the fallout.
The city stretches beneath us in a sea of lights while the telescope points toward a moon so bright it almost looks fake.
"Well." She shoves her hands into my pockets, maybe to stay warm. "This feels significantly less criminal than I imagined, and dare I say also scandalous?"
I laugh, loving that she’s comfortable enough to keep her hands warm. “It’s because you’re not naked yet.”
She jerks back. “I missed that laugh.”
“Me too,” I admit.
“So, Mr. Mastermind villain, what next? I take it we’re up here trying our best to get caught?” She looks around. “Are you thinking the birds will report on us first or the stars?”
“Very funny. Also, they have loads of cameras and people sneak away up here all the time, try not to get a ticket for indecent exposure though, yeah?”
“Yup.” She backs away from me and stretches her arms over her head.
I choke out a laugh. “Are you, are you stretching?”
“Yes! I’m preparing! I’m not flexible, Jude, and it shows.”
“What the hell kind of sexual gymnastics do you think we’re going to be doing that you need to be flexible. For the record I’m not complaining, it’s more of a question also will there be a demonstration?”
She smacks me on the stomach. “I’m serious, I don’t want to look awkward.”
“It’s me, why would it be awkward.”
“Because days ago, you would have kissed me then broken my heart.”
“And today?” I cross my arms. “What makes today any different?”
“Today I realized I never really had it back anyways. You took it with you, you still have it, so breaking really isn’t in my control or my hands.”
It’s like she punched me in the stomach. “You can’t say things like that to me and expect me not to want you.”
“The goal is for you to want me. And others to see.”
“I was going to attempt not to feel.” I say dumbly. “But that was a lie.”
“Glad you can admit it.”
“Is there too much, you think…” I swallow hard. “Too much damage between us?”
“Yes.” She crosses her arms again. “But right now, I'm not going to think about that.”
“Good.”
I reach for her before I can stop myself.
One hand slides around the back of her neck and I pull her toward me.
For one suspended second she just stares at me.
Then I kiss her.
Not carefully.
Not strategically.
Not because we're trying to catch whoever is behind the Dean's List.
I kiss her because for seven years I've imagined what it would feel like to know she was alive, to hear her laugh again, to argue with her, to hate her properly.
Nobody ever warned me that seeing her again would be worse.
That wanting her would be worse.
Her breath catches against my mouth.
My entire body goes tight.
And then she's kissing me back.
The world tilts.
The observatory disappears.
The stars disappear.
The list.
The revenge.
The lies.
All of it.
Gone.
Her fingers thread into my hair, tugging just hard enough to make my pulse slam against my throat. I make a rough sound I don't recognize as my own and pull her closer.
Too close.
Not close enough.
She steps into me and suddenly I'm the one losing ground.
I back her against the railing, my hand sliding to her waist as if I'm terrified she'll disappear if I let go.
Maybe I am.
Maybe that's the problem.
Because the second she melts against me, every plan I've spent years building starts cracking at the foundation.
I deepen the kiss.
Slow this time.
Learning her, remembering her small sighs. I brush my thumb against her jaw and nearly come undone when she sighs against my mouth and tugs on my hair. She tastes exactly like every memory I’ve spent seven years trying to kill.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
Big mistake. Massive actually. Her cheeks are flushed a bright pink, lips swollen, and her eyes, God her eyes, it’s like she’s mirroring exactly how I feel—wrecked.
I rest my forehead against hers and let out a shaky laugh.
“Tell me,” I say roughly. “Tell me this doesn't feel like a disaster.”
“It absolutely feels like a disaster.”
“Good.” I stop her with another kiss and another, then pull back. I’m done. I’m owned.