Ayden catches my hand. “I want to try something,” he whispers, his voice strained.

I nod, even though I don’t have a damn clue what he’s about to do. Don’t care, though. Let him do whatever he wants with me.

He slowly guides my hand back to him and, with an uneven breath, places my palm on his chest. His heart is hammering and slams against my hand.

I don’t say anything. I can barely breathe, knowing how important this moment is to him—to us.

“Your skin’s so soft,” I utter, afraid to move my hand and ruin the moment.

His hands slide to my hips, and his fingers inch up my shirt. “So’s yours.” He traces his finger back and forth along the speck of flesh.

A shiver courses through me, and I suddenly can’t breathe.

Air ripped from my lungs.

Heart bleeding.

I need to see all of him,

Every inch,

Feel the softness of him against me.

I want it so badly my soul aches.

I start to draw back because it seems like we could both use a break from the intensity, but my hands have other ideas, and my fingers drift up his chest. When he doesn’t protest, I inch my hand higher, keeping our eyes locked, making sure he’s all right. I don’t want to push him. If he so much as even looks like he’s freaking out, I’ll stop in a heartbeat.

When his eyes snap wide, I jerk back. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” He counts to three under his breath then, with a swift yank, removes his shirt. “I want to . . .” His breath falters as I take in the sight of him.

While he was getting his tattoo, I tried my best not to stare. Right now, all I do is stare. Stare, stare, stare forever. He’s not ripped like a jock or sculpted like a model. He’s lean and toned and has a few scars on his skin. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and it almost makes me cry that he’s mine.

“You’re so beautiful.” I gently place my hands on his chest and his skin is warm against my palms.

He shivers from my touch. “I want to feel you, too”—he takes a few shallow breaths—“against me.”

I want to ask him if he can handle that, but I don’t think he’d ask if he didn’t actually want to. And I want to too. So, so much, I can hardly stand it.

I step back and shut the door. Then I head back across the room toward him, lifting my shirt over my head.

His grey eyes soak me in as I fumble with the clasp of my bra. Once unfastened, I lower the straps from my shoulders and toss it on the floor. Then I turn to his iPod on the dresser, scroll to my playlist, and select “Youth” by Daughter.

“This seems like the kind of moment that needs a song,” I explain when he gives me a puzzled look.

As I climb up on his lap and put a leg on either side of him, he struggles to breathe evenly, and my heart slams against my chest. He’s nervous. I’m nervous. This isn’t a big deal just for him. I’ve never been this far with a guy before, and I’m glad Ayden is my first. Glad I get to experience a lot of my firsts with him.

He smooths his hands over my sides as I loop my arms around his neck and press my chest against his. The skin-to-skin contact is better than I could have ever imagined in my crazy, imaginative mind.

He’s warm enough to thaw a thousand icebergs,

Liquefy the world into water,

Melt the coldest of hearts,

Chip away at frigid souls.

He gasps as I clutch onto him. Then he slips his arms around me, presses me closer, and buries his head in the crook of my neck, kissing my hammering pulse.

A few tears land on my shoulder as he starts to cry.

“I love you,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

He doesn’t say it back, but he embraces me with everything he has in him, and I know it’s his silent way of saying it back.

Chapter 15

Ayden

Saturday night might have been one of the most amazing nights I’ve ever had. Spending the night with Lyric in my arms, simply holding each other with our bodies connected, surpassed every good experience. She said I love you again, and I almost said it back.

The words burned on the tip of my tongue,

Scorching metal,

Ready to brand our souls

Forever.

I didn’t quite make it there, but I’m not too upset with myself. In fact, I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

All that changes Monday morning when I open the car door to go to school. In the center of the driver’s seat is a piece of paper wrapped by a faded pink ribbon.

Knife

Hair

Sadie

Sacrifice.

It’s time we finally talked, Ayden. Meet us as the Golden Center Docks tonight at 10:00 pm if you ever want to see you sister again. And make sure to come alone.

“Sadie,” I whisper, my hand trembling as I tumble into a memory.

“Ayden, help me!” she cries through the darkness.

I can’t see her anywhere.

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

I search the darkness and see a woman with blood red hair.

Red hair, like blood.

Then I see Sadie chained to a wall, her pink ribbon stained with drops of blood.

“We’re always watching you.”

I blink from the memory, my body quivering as I jerk my hand back. I can’t touch it, not when there might be fingerprints.

My gaze skims the neighborhood, searching for a face I can’t remember. Since it’s early May, the neighborhood is buzzing with the summer air, and people seem to be everywhere. Short, tall, thin, heavy, a guy with blonde hair, a woman with red hair, and it feels as if they’re all watching me.