I lift my head and look at her so she’ll know I mean it, but I see worry in her eyes. I don’t blame her for needing reassurance.

“I’ll be good. I won’t let anything happen.”

As we stand there with our eyes locked, the wait is excruciating. I need this so badly. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says no.

Anna’s hands move down my forearms, and her fingers twine tightly together with mine.

“Let’s go,” she says.

She bites her bottom lip nervously as a grin spreads across my face. We both let out exultant laughs, in disbelief that this is happening. I grab her bag and we simultaneously search around us. No whisperers in sight. I never let go of Anna’s hand.

For the first time in my life I think to myself, So, this is what it feels like to live.

For the first time in my life, I am alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Let Me Kiss You

“Our night is lit by the city moon, and I see myself reflect on you.

I know what I was meant to do.”

—“Aviation High” by Semi Precious Weapons

The whole day has been a disastrous embarrassment. First we show up at my flat, where I’m berated by Michael for missing another practice, then I realize the bloody flat is in ruin from my party on Thursday and Anna wants to clean it herself. Pardon me, but I’m disgraced by the thought of either of us cleaning. Then she finds the lyrics to “Good Thing” in my handwriting. Fantastic. And to add a cherry on top, Anna finds remnants of cocaine on my coffee table and goes all daughter-of-Belial on me. I shouldn’t have found her so sexy in that moment, but when Anna gets possessed with any kind of desire it’s fucking hot.

I’d rubbed her finger where she touched the powder and said, “The way this made you feel? That is what you do to me.” It’s so rare when I can make her understand the madness I feel for her.

If she hadn’t fled the flat to clear her mind at that very moment, I would have had no choice but to do all the sordid things to her I’ve been dreaming of.

Now I’m standing in my room, staring at the neat piles of dirty clothes along my wall, all organized by color. I shake my head. I can’t believe I allowed her to talk me into this. Anna should not have to clean any of this.

I lift my chin as I get a whiff of something divine drifting down the hall. Slowly, I follow the scents to the kitchen doorway, where Anna stands with her hands on her hips, surveying pots and pans that are giving my stove a workout for the first time ever. She’s softly singing to herself, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in. . . .” I will forgive her for the Taylor Swift lyrics, because she looks so bloody adorable standing there cooking—creating something with her hands for my consumption. I don’t think Anna will understand how intimate I find it that she wants to feed me. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an act of foreplay.

It’s been roughly eighteen months since I kissed her. Sinfully too long. When I begin to think of my hands on her, my mouth tasting hers, my body goes completely rigid with intense need, and my sight begins to fog.

Take her.

Take her now.

Right here.

Who needs whisperers when you have a mind like mine that makes completely devious demands of your body? I’m rational enough to know I cannot obey these commands, but I want to so badly it hurts.

Anna reaches out to stir a simmering red sauce and she freezes. Very slowly, she turns and sees me. She sets down the spoon and takes a step back.

Smart girl.

I have to touch her, and she knows it. I fight every urge that’s giving me permission to be rough. With every step I take toward her, she takes a step back, until she’s cornered against the sink and I’m inches away, hovering over her, breathing in the air she exhales. I’m taking great care, because I know she can see the beast in my eyes. I know she’s both excited and frightened. I don’t trust my hands right now, so I grab the sink on either side of her waist. I will not let go.

And then I lower my head and I take her mouth with mine.

Sugar. Salt. Soft and tender. Unmistakably Anna.

Oh, God, yes. This is what I have been missing.

Anna must think it’s safe, because she suddenly goes wild. My vision turns white as I fight for control. She tastes and feels even better than I remember. Unlike me, she’s not holding back. Her hands are in my hair, nails on my scalp and neck. She’s feeling my shoulders and upper back. She’s trying to pull me closer, but I’ve locked myself in this position and I dare not move. I kiss her deeper, letting my mind be taken to that epic place of beauty. Then I ease up and my lips linger over hers, covering them with small and gentle kisses until I have to go deeper again.

When her pear-filled scent fills my senses, my body urges me again to take her.

Anna grips my forearms and pulls her lips from mine, looking up. “Are you okay?”

She has no clue just how okay I am. I want to show my gratitude in a very big way. I told her tonight wasn’t going to be about that, but apparently my body didn’t get the message.

I push myself away from her and rake my hands through my hair.

“I need another bloody shower.”

I’m proud of myself for the self-control I’ve shown, but the showers are getting old. My body knows when it’s being duped. The daily pain I deal with is so much more defined when Anna is near.

I run the towel over my head one last time and I’m about to drop it on the floor when I remember Anna is here and we’re trying to keep the place clean. So I hold up the towel and awkwardly fold it in half and hang it askew on the rack.

See? I can do this. I’ll even take out the last bag of rubbish without her asking.

I’m feeling good when I run into Anna in the hall at the stacked washer and dryer. That is, I was feeling good. Now I see the look on her face and the paper in her hand.

Shiiiiiiite . . . shite, shite, shite!

It’s the fucking note Anna Malone left me. I only remember one damn line from the whole thing—something about picking up where we left off. This is not good.

“I heard a rumor that you’re not working,” Anna says quietly. “Is that true?”

I wish I could say yes, completely.

“Mostly. I work if whisperers come around or if my father gives me a task, but even with Marissa’s nieces it’s not usually sex.”

She pauses and I want to tell her everything—about how hard I’ve tried and how good I’ve mostly been, but the proof is right there in her hands that I’ve done something, sex or not.

“Were there whisperers here when you had people over?” When she asks this, I know what she’s really asking. Did you hook up with her because you had to or because you wanted to? Emptiness fills me. I won’t lie to her, even though I’d rather gouge my eye out than admit this.

I shake my head. “No.” I wasn’t working.

She crumples the note and turns away from me, back to the washing machine, and I feel as if I’m falling. I know how she’s feeling. I know that sickening sense of betrayal, and now I’m feeling like a hypocritical prat for giving her such a hard time about a kiss with Kope when I’d done even worse. God, if Kopano had done to her what I’d done to the other Anna . . . I clench my jaw, then I get a grip. I have to fix this.

“Anna.” She ignores me and goes about stuffing laundry in. “Ann, please. Listen.”

How can I make this go away? She turns to face me and her eyes are wet. I shove my hands into my hair, wondering how I can salvage this night.