It killed me to not be speaking to her like I normally would.
She was quiet.
Too quiet. And it wasn't the kind of silence that soothed me. It was the kind that dug into your skin like broken glass, reminding you with every second that something had snapped between you.
I stared out the jet's window, the world beneath us shifting into nothing but clouds. Mira sat across from me, curled slightly toward the aisle, her hands clasped around her knees like she was afraid she might fall apart if she let go.
I wanted to reach for her. I wanted to drag her against me, press my face into her neck, breathe her in until my lungs couldn't hold any more of her. But instead, I clenched my fists against the armrest and let the distance grow.
Because what the hell was I supposed to do? She'd admitted enough for me to know Massimo had his claws in her. And still...she had begged me, moaned for me, said she loved me. A man could go insane trying to piece those contradictions together.
