"A covalent bond." I sighed happily.
"Congratulations, Beth, you're no longer chargeless."
"How do you figure?"
"Had a light bulb been touching both of us, it would have exploded."
"I think, Mr. Senator, that you just called me hot?"
"Damn right, I did." He growled, kissing my mouth. "And just so you know, getting called Mr. Senator in bed… hotter."
"Ah, so you are power-hungry."
"No," his eyes darkened, "just hungry. So. Damn. Hungry."
Was he talking about me or food?
He tugged at the strap on my Victoria Secret top and cursed. "Maybe in other circumstances… if I hadn't walked away from you."
"What do you mean?"
He slowly pulled away from me and rubbed his temples. "If we'd met again, after school, before my heart had been shattered and stomped into a million pieces. Maybe if we'd met before then… I'd have one intact. One I could give you. But I can't."
My lower lip trembled. His honesty was going to be the death of me. Funny, because in his line of work, you'd think it would be his lies.
"Which is why," he sighed and turned away from me, "I'm going to sleep. I'm going to keep my hands off and let you sleep too."
"What if I don't want the gentleman?" I asked in a hopeful whisper, my voice cracking from emotion.
"You do, Beth." He sighed heavily. "What good is the fairytale if, in the end, the girl's so broken she can't even finish the damn story?"
I took a leap of faith anyway.
And moved to straddle him. His groan was all the encouragement I needed as I tugged his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor.
"Beth, we shouldn't—"
"Shh…" I brushed a kiss across his jaw, and his grip tightened on my hips. I thought he was going to pull me against him; instead he gently lifted me off his body and sat me next to him.
Voice hoarse, he whispered, "I want to, Beth. I do, but I can't. You've had a lot to drink and it's just… that's not the fairytale you want, sweetheart."
"But I want you." I reached for him again.
He tugged me into his body and kissed my temple. "Sleep."
That was how we went to bed.
Both of us blanketed in a chilly silence. With things left unsaid. Me wanting him, him wanting me, but admitting yet again, like every other man in my existence, that although I was good, I wasn't good enough for him. Or maybe it was different with Jace. He liked me. He could give me his heart, but it seemed it had already been given very flippantly a long time ago. And I knew something about hearts, once they've claimed another as their own.
It was near impossible to forget.
My heart ached with the knowledge that it was entirely possible that each day I spent in Jace's presence was another piece of my heart he was unknowingly taking. And I was willingly giving it. Hoping that, by the end, it wouldn't destroy me.
Chapter Twenty-one
"Crackerjacks!" Grandma slammed her fist onto the table. "I'm trying to tell you a story, Gus! Stop interrupting!"
"I'm just trying to understand how their love story ends with a kidnapping, that's all, ma'am."
"No, you're frying my very last nerve, Gus, and I won't have it. I'm eighty-six, and though I look strong, it wears on me, it—"
"Ma'am?" theaAgent whispered. "Ma'am?
He slowly rose up from his chair and tapped Grandma on the shoulder.
With a snort, she opened her eyes. "Oh," she stretched, "such a good sleep. You were saying?"
Jace
"Grandma." I cleared my throat, managing to only clog it further as she held out the pencil and paper. "I still don't understand what you're asking me to do."
For the last half-hour, Grandma had lectured us on how to keep a relationship strong… in the bedroom. My ears had bled, and I'm pretty sure, given the circumstances, a few of my sperm had just given up and died.
I wouldn't blame them. I'd wished for death when she'd gone into graphic detail about her late husband, Bill. Apparently in his final years he'd gone blind in his right eye, but Grandma wanted to be sure that we understood that physical ailments should not deter us from participating in what she weirdly referred to as Charades.
What followed was an actual pie chart about erogenous zones that are awakened when other parts of the body are physically… on the injured list. Our torture in hell had ended with pictures. Not normal pictures, because that would be too easy. She erected, poor choice of words, I know, a felt storyboard that I could have sworn my Sunday School teachers used to use in order to tell us Bible stories, and then told us a story about Sad Sam and Happy Hannah, and how Sad Sam turned into a Surprised Sam when Happy Hannah learned how to take Grandma's advice.
There was a poem.
And finally a song that was sung to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb."
I would never eat lamb again.
I thought the torture was done, until Grandma gave us pencils and said we had a pop quiz. The questions had to be the stupidest ones I'd ever had anyone ask me, and I'd had a lot of stupid questions.It was part of the job.
"Write out your answers on this piece of paper and discuss."
"But the questions are stupid."
"So are you, and I don't go telling it to your face, now do I?"
"You have," I argued. "Twice."
"It's true," Beth chimed in.
Grandma waved me off. "Question one."
"Shit."
"How is that donkey?" Grandma sighed happily. "He's quite old, you know."
"We know." Beth sighed. "Can we just hurry and get this done? We're burning daylight, and I really need to get a tan."
"She does," I agreed. "White as a ghost."
"Yeah, throw stones in a glass house, Viagra. Let me know how that works out for you."
"Children!" Grandma clapped. "Honestly, what's wrong with you this morning?"
Beth's face fell. "Nothing, sorry, I didn't sleep well."
Was she actually pissed I hadn't made a move on her? Seriously? Did she think it was easy for me to turn around and sleep when I knew she wanted the exact opposite? I'd heard every sigh that escaped her lips, every breath she'd taken, every moan she'd made, every damn toss and turn. I'd almost slept on the floor.
I broke the pencil in half and grimaced when Grandma threw another one at my face. I barely caught it before it impaled itself in my cheek.
"Question one." Grandma sniffed. "As a child, the cartoon character you most identified with was…?"
Grumbling I wrote down my answer.
"Question two." After a teacher pause, you know the pause teachers do to make you sweat it out for a minute before they ask the next question, Grandma spoke, "Name your most secure moment as a child."
Grimacing. My pencil hovered over the paper. I honestly didn't know how to answer. My entire childhood had been based around my parents' approval. I was secure in their love — but not secure in my success. When I was six, I'd had nightmares that my dad had told me he wasn't proud of me anymore.
I scribbled down my answer and waited.
"Final question," Grandma called. "If you were a food, you would be what? And why?"
I rolled my eyes. "Is this even real or just another one of your ploys to get us to…" I shook my head, letting my voice die off.
"Aw, Jace, you scared you're going to get the wrong answer? It isn't a test," Beth joked. "Just answer the questions so we can hurry up and go."
Rolling my eyes, I answered the last question and gave Grandma my paper.
"I see." Grandma read my paper and then compared it to Beth's, which was a little humiliating.