Page 168 of Priceless

“In the past—” I broke off because my throat was suddenly dry, swallowing. “I was never the first one to say 'I love you.' Ever. I always needed to hear those words before I’d go there. And — the other person had to want me more than I wanted them. I can’t believe I’m even saying this. But it's a funny thing about being with you. I can only tell you the truth.”

His arms tightened around me. His silence was agonizing. The one clue I had was the hammering of his heart against my back.

Seconds ticked away and I wondered if he was frozen, if my words had iced him over while he burned like a furnace inside.

So I threw a rock to break the ice.

“I heard about your mom.”

He squeezed me harder, tensing. “I know.”

“You do?”

“I saw Nick called tonight and I called him back. He was drunk and crying and babbling about how I was a fucking hypocrite and a coward who was living a life of lies. This was while you were putting your sister to bed — good times.”

The truth hit me: Patrick was talking too much. Underneath the ice, he was nervous as hell.

“Are you going to visit your mom?” I asked simply.

In the pause that followed, I counted my breaths in time with Patrick’s. His soft T-shirt and the rougher fabric of his jeans rubbed against my skin.

“Yes.”

“When did you decide that?”

“Right now.”

Impulsively, I rolled over to face him in the dark, the air thick with all the things we hadn't said. I put my hand on his chest.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” I whispered.

“You do that to me, Christina.”

“Uh-uh,” I teased, unsure if I was fishing or brushing him off. I was flustered suddenly, as nervous as Patrick. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Oh, you are.”

“Come on. I can't even believe Sydney thinks I put a spell on Dexter. My sister is the one who bewitches guys. Not me.”

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

My breath whooshed out. “Me?” I asked in a small voice.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

“You're the one who's had all the power. I can't stop thinking about you. I hear your voice everywhere.” The words rushed out, tripping on each other. “Sometimes I — I think I'm going to come just from hearing you speak. I almost have. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.”

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it hurts.”

“Really?” I whispered. “Are you hurting right now?”

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

My hand darted to his crotch. Swiftly, he pinned my wrists to the pillow.

His breathing was labored, rough and intent — like he was already close. I wanted so badly to see his face, to read his expression, and yet I understood what he'd told me long ago.It’s harder to pretend in the dark.

“Tell me the truth.” My voice was husky. “Either way, I need to know.”