Chapter 66 The Line Between Us
Briar's POV
His thumb traced the edge of my jaw. The warmth of his palm against my lower back made it hard to think clearly, and I was acutely aware of how his arm had locked around my waist, holding me in place on his lap.
I should have pulled away. I should have stood up and put distance between us. Instead, I stayed frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs as his gray-green eyes held mine in the dim streetlight.
His hand slid from my neck to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "You've been avoiding me."
I swallowed hard and tried to find my voice, but the words stuck in my throat. He was right. I had been avoiding him.
"I haven't been avoiding you," I said finally, but the lie sounded weak even to my own ears.
His gray-green eyes caught the faint glow of the estate's exterior lights, creating an almost ethereal shimmer in the darkness. He was close—too close—and the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of my dress.
His voice was low, intimate, as he leaned in slightly. "Just now, you were sitting by the roadside, looking around everywhere. What were you searching for?"
My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure. "I... I just needed some air. It's been a long day."
His expression didn't change, but I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. He didn't believe me—or rather, he knew there was more I wasn't saying.
Desperate to shift the focus away from myself, I seized on the first thing that came to mind. "Shouldn't you be picking up Ash? I thought he was arriving tonight."
For a moment, Lucian said nothing. Then, slowly, his arm tightened around my waist, drawing me even closer until there was barely any space between us. The movement was deliberate, possessive, and it sent a shiver racing down my spine.
His voice dropped to a near-whisper, rough and edged with something I couldn't quite name. "The person I came for... don't you know who it is?"
My breath hitched. A car passed by, its headlights sweeping across us in a sudden flash of brightness, and in that split second my mind conjured an image I hadn't been prepared for. Julian's hand around my throat, his fingers pressing into my windpipe as his voice hissed threats in my ear.
The memory slammed into me with the force of a physical blow, and I flinched, my body going rigid in Lucian's arms. I couldn't breathe. I pushed against his chest, my hands flat against the solid muscle as I tried to create space between us. "I need to go. I have things to do. Don't waste my time."
His expression shifted, something dark and frustrated flashing across his face. His grip on me tightened for a moment, and then he let out a low growl that I felt reverberate through his chest. "Enough."
Before I could react, his hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me toward him. His mouth crashed against mine, hard and demanding, and I felt the shock of it ripple through my entire body. His lips moved against mine with a roughness that bordered on desperate, and I froze, my hands still pressed against his chest.
"I'm done playing cat and mouse with you," he murmured against my mouth, his voice rough and edged with frustration. His other hand moved from my waist to my hip, holding me in place as his kiss softened, shifting from demanding to something more exploratory, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I opened for him.
The moment our tongues met, my mind went blank. The heat of his mouth, the way his fingers tightened in my hair, the pressure of his body against mine—it all crashed over me in a wave that left me dizzy and disoriented. I felt my resistance crumble, and without meaning to, I kissed him back, my hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders as I leaned into him.
The world around us faded. The noise of the street, the distant hum of traffic, the cool night air—all of it dissolved until there was nothing but the taste of him, the way his breath mingled with mine, the low sound he made in the back of his throat when my fingers dug into his shoulders.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and I felt his chest rise and fall against mine. His eyes flashed with a hint of gold again, and he licked the corner of his mouth, his gaze dropping to my lips before meeting my eyes again.
"Clear now?" His voice was rough, edged with satisfaction. He paused, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. "Clear who I came for?" He studied my face for a moment, then added in a lower tone, "Sweet."
The casual observation sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt my face flush. I needed to say something, anything to break the tension that had wrapped around us, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"I want ice cream."
He raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting against my neck. "Ice cream."
"Yes." I forced my voice to sound steady. "There's a convenience store down the block. I want vanilla."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. Then his mouth curved into a slow smile, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. "No official status between us, and you think you can order me around?"
The question sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my resolve waver. But I forced myself to meet his gaze. "You think you can get away with not preparing anything? Why should I make it official with you?"
His smile widened, and for a moment I thought he might argue. But then he sighed, his hand sliding from my neck to cup my face one more time. "Vanilla. Fine."
He shifted, and I scrambled off his lap, my legs unsteady as I found my footing. He stood in one smooth motion, his eyes never leaving mine, and then he leaned in and pressed a quick, stolen kiss to my lips before I could react.
"Wait here," he said, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice.
I watched as he walked toward the convenience store, his stride confident and unhurried, and I felt something twist in my chest. He was a smart man. He would understand what I was about to do. This was my answer, the only one I could give him.
The traffic light at the intersection ahead began its countdown. One minute.
I turned and started walking toward the crosswalk, my bare feet silent against the pavement. Better to end this now, on my terms, than to wait for Julian to make his move.
I reached the edge of the crosswalk and stepped onto the white stripes. The light was still red for the cross traffic. Forty-five seconds.
And then the sound hit me.
The screech of tires, high-pitched and piercing, ripped through the night air and slammed into my chest like a physical blow. My vision blurred, and suddenly I wasn't standing at a crosswalk anymore. I was back on that street, five years ago, watching the car careen out of control.
I could hear the screams, the panicked shouts of the crowd, the sickening thud of metal hitting flesh. I could see the woman's body crumpling, her limbs splaying at unnatural angles, the blood spreading across the pavement.
My legs locked. I couldn't move. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead, and my hands started shaking. The countdown on the light continued. Thirty seconds. But I couldn't take another step forward.
Behind me, I heard it. The roar of an engine, loud and aggressive, growing closer. Too close.
I turned my head just enough to see the black SUV barreling toward me, its headlights blazing. It wasn't slowing down.
Before I could process what was happening, something slammed into me from the side. Arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me down, and we hit the ground hard, rolling across the pavement as the SUV tore past, its tires screeching as it blew through the red light and disappeared into the night.
I lay on the sidewalk, my body pressed against the cold concrete, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. Lucian's arms were still around me, his chest heaving against my back.
"Are you hurt?" His voice was rough. He shifted, his hands running over my arms and legs, checking for injuries with a frantic precision.
I couldn't answer. My throat felt too tight, and my hands were shaking. I turned my head and saw the wreckage in the middle of the crosswalk. The ice cream cone he had been carrying was crushed, the vanilla smeared across the pavement.
"You could have died." My voice came out strangled, barely above a whisper. I pushed myself up and turned to face him. "Are you insane? You could have died!"
He was still on the ground, his shirt torn and stained with dirt, and when I grabbed his arm to pull him up, I felt the slick warmth of blood. I looked down and saw the gash running along his forearm, the skin scraped raw from where he had hit the pavement. His shirt was shredded on one side.
"You're bleeding." My voice cracked, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I pulled at his arm. "We need to get you to a hospital."
He jerked his arm out of my grasp, his expression hardening. "If you didn't want anything to do with me, why do you care if I'm hurt or dead?"
The words hit me like a slap, and I felt my breath catch. He stood, his movements sharp and angry, and I watched as he turned away from me, his jaw clenched tight. I opened my mouth to explain, but the words wouldn't come. They stuck in my throat, tangled up with all the things I couldn't say, and I stood there helpless as he walked toward his car.
He didn't look back. He yanked the door open and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door hard enough that I felt the vibration in my chest. The engine roared to life, and the car shot forward, merging into traffic with a speed that made my stomach drop.
I stood on the sidewalk, my bare feet cold against the concrete, and watched as his taillights disappeared into the distance.