Chapter Three

The blackness pressed in on Violet, suffocating and thick. And the voice she kept hearing above her head drove her to an insanity level. She blindly reached out and encountered the small plastic speaker. It didn't look to have any cords attached which meant whoever was talking either had a Wi-Fi connection or was physically nearby.

She fought to catch her breath, found her chest squeezing tighter and tighter as her grip on that speaker tensed.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, breathe. With me."

She was half-tempted to scream at him again, tell him to stop using that damn nickname, but he chose that moment to touch her. Sure, their bodies had been in constant contact but now his fingers fluttered over the skin of her face. Then his breath caressed her cheek with the slightest of whispers.

That hand on her face traced along her arm, up and up. Goose bumps rose along her skin unwelcoming, and in their wake, the panic receded a bit and confusion set in. His hand wrapped around hers holding the speaker before pulling her grip gently down until their hands lay over her stomach with the speaker sitting there.

Several moments went by before she noticed her breathing had matched his. He crooned softly in her ear.

"Good girl," he said, his voice close. While they'd been stuck in the box this entire time, now she noticed other things, too. Things she shouldn't be noticing on a man who'd made her life hell in high school, from someone she once considered a mortal enemy. But one she had also considered her childhood best friend. They had played on the playgrounds together, exchanged snacks at lunchtime in elementary school.

She'd known he was afraid of the monster in his closet at six years old, just as he knew she couldn't stand to eat meat for much of her childhood.

So these things she started to notice being locked in here with him … things that caused her eyebrows to draw down.

His scent was still familiar and surrounded her, a woodsy pine that reminded her of the deep forest she used to spend so much time in back home. There was a hint of sweat beneath that, too. The combination of the two should have had her recoiling back but instead she found herself taking it deep into her lungs, leaning closer to take more in.

His thumb moved in circles against her skin, and his hand over hers felt strong. There were calluses against her skin that told her he used them a lot. Whether it was lifting weights or doing hard work elsewhere, she didn't know. But they didn't feel like the hands of a spoiled man raised under Daddy's cushioning.

His voice didn't sound like the pompous ass he'd been in high school, one spoiled rotten and filled with hatred every time he turned her way. Instead, the low timbre rolled across her exposed skin as if phantom fingers, bringing her body alive.

What the hell was happening?

"Doing better?" he asked, his thumb still moving against her hand in a soothing motion.

Her back arched slightly under his words as her breasts ached to feel the touch of his lips, the brush of his hands against them.

She scissored her legs, which caused her to shift against him.

He swallowed hard, his mouth brushing against her ear.

"I don't understand," she said.

His hand left hers and moved to her waist, squeezed her hip as he shifted closer. "It's the adrenaline," he said, his breath shaking.

She turned her face toward his so their cheeks kissed one another. Her body tried to follow the movement but got caught against his. He gripped her hip firmly, then squeezed her flesh before moving his hand down until it rested on the curve of her rear, laying over her skirt. She had on one of her mini pleated skirts that hit her upper thigh and a stretchable tee, her typical outfit of choice. From what she could feel, though, it didn't seem as if she still wore her Converse Chuck boots.

Air skipped out of her lungs in both shock and confusion, in need and want. She didn't understand how the tables had turned so quickly when just moments ago she'd been both repulsed and scared out of her mind.

Now, all she could think about was her body touching Elijah's, her mouth meeting his. She lifted her hips so she could rotate, which only assisted in his hand cupping her ass firmly. Part of his hand rested on the bare skin of her thigh. A thrill went through her at the foreign touch.

With the free room above their heads, it allowed her to come over top him and blindly search for his mouth.

First, her free hand found a powerful jaw with bristles that were soft to the touch yet abrasive against her skin. A compelling combination. One that had her wondering how they'd feel against the bare skin of her breasts.

He kept one hand on her ass, digging his firm grip into her flesh, and the other tunneled into her thick hair at the back of her head.

Her fingers danced across his lips, ones she knew from memory were plump and shaped perfectly on a handsome face. They could deliver some mean insults. But those slurs were nowhere to be found at this moment. Instead, as she leaned forward, she heard him moan out, "Yes, please," before her mouth found his.

She straddled him but didn't lower her pelvis to his. Their lips met and became one in a heated delightful caress, moving over one another in a sensual movement she'd always craved but never experienced. There was nothing rushed in their kiss, and instead they moved as if they had all the time in the world to discover and learn. In a fucked-up way, she supposed they did. It wasn't like they were going anywhere anytime soon.

He nipped at her lower lip as if he knew he didn't have her full attention. She gasped, pulling back slightly to lick out at the offended piece of flesh. "That hurt," she said.

"Liar," he said, then pulled her back with the grip in her hair. Against her mouth, he paused. "I want to taste you, sweetheart. Open up." With that, he crushed his lips to hers, then very deliberately opened his mouth and licked at the seam of hers until she allowed him entry. It was instinctual when it should have been anything but. He had made her teenage years a living hell. Had taunted her with ugly threats, started rumors that stung like a million yellow jackets all at once, and had been the sole cause for many of her fears until she escaped that small northeast town.

Their tongues danced against one another, then pulled back. He tasted of cloves and mint, an enticing combination that reminded her of her favorite tea and had her craving sample after sample. She could kiss him forever if he'd let her—if she would let herself enjoy such a thing.

But reality was often a bitch and intruded at the worst times.

He groaned as she tangled her tongue with his and sucked. His hands clamped down hard enough that her knees spread, and she met his pelvis with her own.

She gasped and came up for air as shock shot through her system. This felt too good. Too much. Too soon.

"Don't stop," he begged, his voice thick with lust.

She'd love to see his eyes now, to see him look at her with something other than disgust for once. Because she was about to put them both firmly on the ground and back in reality.

Sadness rushed in swiftly, with memories of them playing in his yard, watching movies under the moonlight with a projector. Sharing a bowl of popcorn.

He pressed at her head again and the hand at her ass squeezed. She could tell he palmed her over her cheeky underwear now, no cloth from her skirt between them. Tingles ran up her spine as she gasped.

"Please," he said, and she could tell he strained up toward her.

His cruel face from high school flashed through her mind, his mouth curled up in a sneer.

She placed a chaste kiss on his plump lips, then pulled back. "Violet," she whispered, and he froze as if ice had suddenly been injected into his veins.

"My name is Violet Levine."

One second, two of ugly silence then, "Get the fuck off me."