“The fascinating articles?”
“No.” His mouth tilts in this teasing way. “The centerfold.”
The centerfold. Gah. “And you didn’t even get to the good part,” I whisper in a high-pitched mock.
Oz actually gives a good-natured chuckle and I’ll be damned if I don’t smile in response.
“I don’t understand it,” I say without thinking.
“What?”
I pause, but decide to continue. I’ll never see him again after today. “Why you make me feel comfortable.”
Lines bunch together on Oz’s forehead as he studies me. “Comfortable?”
I flex my toes in my sandals. “I don’t normally push at guys like I do with you.”
“I have a hard time believing that. Next you’ll claim you’re shy.”
A sardonic twist of my lips. “I’m not shy.”
“No shit.”
I giggle, he grins, then I sigh. Heavily. The events of the past twenty-four hours catch up to me. Being ripped away from my parents, some illegal motorcycle club at the motel, Olivia telling me that my life is a lie, trying to please Eli, the guilt of not pleasing Eli, the anger at Eli... A choking sensation squeezes my throat and I scratch my neck as if I could tear away the invisible noose.
“You okay?” Oz asks.
No. I’m not okay. All of this chaos threatens to follow me home. I’m happy at home. Content. And this visit from hell is going to mess with that.
Olivia said my life is a lie and there’s this dark suspicion that if I ask my mother for the truth, she won’t give it to me. An ache courses through me and my shoulders curve in with it. I’ve never doubted my mother before. Never. The pain that a few hours can shake my faith in her is too much to bear.
A slight, distant feminine voice rises up from the vent below my feet. My skin prickles. She’s here. My mother’s here. I stand and Oz pushes off the door, his eyes narrowed. “Emily, are you okay?”
I swallow.
One moment—a few seconds—and my entire life can change. I can do this and looking at Oz convinces me that overhearing my parents and Eli’s conversation is possible.
His black hair is an array of messy tufts sticking out in various directions. The bandanna is off and the urge is to knot my fingers in the strands. I step into his personal space. Close enough that heat instantly springs between us. Close enough that when we inhale to breathe, our bodies touch.
I lift my head and Oz’s deep blue eyes dart around my face in confusion. There’s a light stubble on his jaw and, being braver than I normally am, I reach up and gently brush my fingertips along the rough hairs. My heart beats faster with the soft scrape against my skin and Oz sucks in a breath of air.
“What are you doing?” His voice is deep and gruff. Each syllable caressing my soul.
What am I doing? I’m submitting to temptation. I’m taking control of my life. I lick my lips and Oz mirrors the motion. He’s not lying. He’s as attracted to me as I am to him and there’s no part of me that will regret what’s about to happen.
“I’m leaving soon,” I whisper.
“You are.”
“And I won’t be coming back.”
“You won’t.” His gaze wanders the length of my body. “But we can’t do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing.”
Resistance—not what I need and, deep down, not what I want. “Why not?”
Oz pierces me with his eyes and I spot not only a shadow of lust there, but a seriousness I’ve never seen from anyone else before. “Because you aren’t that type of girl.”
Normally, I’m not, yet I bristle like a porcupine and try to ignore the sting of rejection. Maybe he doesn’t want me like he claims. Maybe I’m making a fool of myself. “You have no idea who I am.”
“And you don’t know me and you don’t understand my world.”
His world. He’s right. I don’t, but I do know there’s so much more going on than anyone will tell me and I’m bent on finding it out. Oz thinks he has all the power here, but I’m not blind and I do listen. He wants to kiss me as much as I secretly crave to kiss him. This rawness going on between us is nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s primal, instinctual, and instead of fighting it, I’m bent on using it to my advantage.
The girl I normally am, she’s begging me to return to my chair, but nothing about this moment is normal. Being here, the picture Olivia gave me, Eli’s sudden interest in me...the way my blood pounds in an urgent rhythm whenever Oz is around. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?”
Oz rubs a hand over his face as if he’s waging an internal battle. It’s a battle against me and, in this, I will win. I step closer, my body pressing against his, and a slight twinge of a possible victory overtakes me when he closes his eyes as if he likes the feel of me.
“Are you all talk, Oz? In the short time I’ve known you, you keep saying you want to kiss me and I’m admitting I want to kiss you. This is a now or never. Once I leave here, I will never return.”
I take a huge risk. I lay my fingers on his shoulders, my thumb tracing his collarbone through his shirt. His head snaps up as if I found his “On” switch. A wave of electricity crackles in the air when our eyes meet and I love the utter shock written all over his face. Yes, I am the person in control.
In a lightning-fast movement, Oz’s hand snatches mine, the one that’s touching him, and he holds it in his grasp. He shifts so that he towers over me, like he did in the hallway, in a way that suggests he’s trying to take back control. “Is this what you really want, Emily? To kiss me? You don’t think I see right through you? That you try to kiss me, I lower my defenses, and you push past me and out the door?”