Chasing Serenity (Seeking Serenity) (7 page)

“Yes, well, you seem to take apologies to the extreme.
  Except when they’re forced. Can’t have that, now can we?”

“Oh, I think we can. We can have that plenty.” His accent gets thicker when he’s angry, or, like now when he’s trying to flirt. He sidesteps closer to me and I believe he’s momentarily forgotten about the night we met. Either that or he doesn’t see me as much of a threat.
 

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

“And why not? Have you already fallen for the nancy captain?”

“No. It honestly has nothing to do with Tucker.”

“Ah, still hacked off at me for that kiss?” He moves back and his hand covers his crotch.

I lift my hands in surrender. “No worries, I’m not going to attack. Besides, I’m over it. I just think you and I would be inappropriate. You’re an undergrad. You can’t be more than twenty, right?’

“I got started late.” He plays with my hair and ignores the slap I give his hand. “I’ll be twenty-four in January. Plenty legal.”

That’s surprising. Most men his age would have given up on their education. Part of me wants to know what’s taken him so long to get through his studies. “Still inappropriate. I’m not going to jeopardize getting a faculty position next year.”

“Wouldn’t messing about Tucker do that?”

I glance at him once, notice how he’s forgotten the books completely. He relaxes on the table, resting back on his elbows. “Tucker graduates in the spring. But he’s not even a consideration.”

“Why’s that?”

He doesn’t need to know about my history with Tucker. “You, on the other hand have, what, three more years?”

“Two. I transferred. Two years is a long time to become mates.” The table moves when Declan inches off of it to stand next to me.

“I have enough friends, thanks.”

He lowers his shoulders, returns to the books, scanning the spines. “Come now, you can never have enough friends.” The Americanized term sounds odd spoken through his brogue. His bare arm rubs against me as we work and I don’t think it’s at all accidental.

“I think you have decidedly too friendly ideas about me.”

He laughs, then steps behind me so that his mouth is next to my ear. “I won’t deny that.”

Before I can I respond, the lights overhead flicker once, twice. There is a wheeze and a pop and then the only light in the room comes from the small basement window above the bookshelves.

No, I think. Not now.

“Is there a storm?” Declan asks, but I can’t answer. The doors in the stairwell whine as the alarms lock and I already feel the pulsing panic in my chest surface. “McShane?”

“God…oh, God.”

He must see my panic, how my eyes have rounded because he reaches forward to touch me, then retreats when I jerk back. My limbs shudder and I back up against the bookshelf before I crumble to the floor.

“How’s her breathing?”

“Bad. Her face has gone all pale and she looks like she’s about to hyperventilate. What the feck do I do?”

“She won’t hyperventilate. Just be patient with her and try to get her to calm down.” Sayo’s voice is composed, level, but I hear her shouting at the maintenance men through the speaker of my cell. Mollie and Layla are asking questions, that much I can make out, but Sayo puts them off, tries to make them quiet.

Pain radiates in my chest and my heart is a constant drum of aching palpitations. There is no way I cannot be dying. I am dizzy, winded, and when thunder cracks above us in the distance, my mind flashes to the accident, to the winds and pain, blood and loss.

Dammit, I can’t breathe.

Logically, I know Declan is here. He’s crouched on the floor, my phone in his hand, but my mind is a flutter of worry. Nothing makes sense. I hear his conversation, hear my best friend on the speaker, but can’t make the words form coherent sentences. Being locked in this small basement, electricity out, a storm raging overhead, has me freakin’ out.

“Declan, I’ve got to get the maintenance people in line.”

“You better not be an ass to her!” Layla yells into the receiver.

“Hush,” Sayo says, then her voice becomes clearer as she returns her attention to Declan. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get the power back on. Oh and just an FYI, Autumn is going to try to escape. Please don’t let her hurt herself.”

“Right. Okay. Cheers.” I think he disconnects the call. I think he tries to touch me, tentative grabs toward my arm, but he is too large. Too close. I don’t know him. I don’t want to know him. Why is he staring at me? Is he staring at me?

Escape. I need an escape.  “McShane, please calm down.” Is he following me? There. Right there. Bookshelves. A low ceiling and a window.

My mind is wracking with impossible, ridiculous scenarios. I need air. I need breath and freedom. I need an open field and the sun beating on my face. I need space. Where can I find space? We’re going to die down here. We’re going to starve. We’ll suffocate. I’m going to die like my mom. I’m going to bleed and starve and run out of oxygen.

I spot a window above the tallest row of shelves and dart toward it. Declan is on my heels. “No, McShane, don’t you dare.” I make attempts to climb up the shelf, knocking books to the floor and I actually manage to clear several thick shelves before Declan pulls me down, circles my waist to hold me tight against his large chest.  “Calm yourself,” he says. His voice is low, soothing, but it does little to abate the trembling that has taken over me. My whole body is like a livewire, moving, twisting for a reprieve from his hold.

Declan runs his large palm over my forehead, his fingers glide through my hair and it’s still no good. The shuddering continues and my defenses kick in, I twist around, punching against him and his hold eases. My back slams against the bookshelf in my feeble attempts to escape him, but he won’t let me move. His hands are on my shoulders and his eyes broaden. There is real fear in his expression, he is guarded, concerned, but he won’t move away from me, won’t let me have the space I need. When I push against his chest, try punching at him again, he exhales, his face flushing red then his hands cup my cheeks and he kisses me.

This is not like the sloppy drunken kiss from a few nights ago. He is demanding and my instinct is to resist, to rebel against his invasion. But then he strokes my face, feather light, gentle, and I relax against him. His lips are smooth, full, and he doesn’t attempt to deepen the kiss. When I grip the collar of his shirt, Declan makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and circles his arms around my back.

Our chests connect and I swear I can feel his heartbeat—wild, pounding, a matching rhythm to my own. I am kissing Declan Fraser as though it is a completely natural, necessary act. The anxiety that controlled me, festered into my chest, dissipates. Calm replaces the manic fear, the desperation to flee, and I sink deeper into him, loving the feel of his body over mine, the firm grip of his hands on my back.

His hands work up to my neck, holding me firm and I am free of tension. I press against him, pulling on his shoulders, lowering him down to me. I don’t know what I’m doing or why, but the sensations he works in me cloud my judgment, my reason. I don’t understand why I’m not fighting this. I never like to relinquish control, but the way Declan kisses me, touches me, has me willingly weak. Losing all sense of tact, my tongue licks against his bottom lip and I feel his heavy inhale, his hot breath against my face. He returns the action, tentative at first, and then his tongue slides against mine and he is pulling me up, holding me close. When my body responds, a small brush against him, Declan breaks the kiss. His breathing is labored and he blinks several times as though he tries to clear whatever thoughts are in his mind.

We stare at each other for seconds, but time expands until the air around us is weighted. Declan chews on the inside of his mouth and lets one long, slow breath release through his nose. When he speaks, his voice is whisper loud. “Not exactly the first kiss I was expecting.”

“That…that was the second.”

“Me molesting you while pie-eyed doesn’t count.” Mouth quirking and me still wrapped around him, Declan again exhales. “Just now, that was really the first.” He glances from my eyes to my lips then back again. “And here’s another.”

I don’t argue. His lips touch mine once, twice and settle on the third, working over my swollen mouth. He doesn’t wait for me to react, he simply slips his tongue against mine and twists our bodies around, lowers us to the floor so that I’m sitting on his lap. He moves his hands up my back, still, gentle, and I feel a desperate thump kindle in my core. 

My cell phone rings and I pull back, feeling over his jean pockets until I find my phone. Declan releases a groan when my hands come too close to his slightly at-attention dick and I repress a chuckle.

“Sayo?” I ask, standing up.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I step away from Declan who looks like a deflated balloon slumped against the bookshelf. “What’s going on up there?”

“A transformer blew and the whole circuit on this side of campus is out. It’s going to take a while. The janitors are trying to override the locks down there but it’s no good without power. Even the generators aren’t working. I’m so sorry, honey. Are you sure you’re okay? Is the jackass bothering you?”

“No. He’s being well behaved.” I turn to see Declan sitting up with his arms resting on his knees, the constant smirk pulling his mouth. “Just keep me updated.”

Sayo disconnects the call and I return my phone to my pocket. The air is still thick and heated down here, but I am calmer, certainly more relaxed. Declan comes off the floor, follows me to the table near the door and I make room for him when he budges next to me.

“We’re going to be here a while?” he asks.

“I’m afraid so. Transformer and generators are down.”

He lays back and lets his arm cross over his eyes. I’m uncertain what to do with myself. There is an awkward silence in the room, the unspoken reality of our kisses left unmentioned. Should I say something? Will he? God, I feel ridiculous. I’m not sixteen. I should be able to at least attempt adult behavior.

“Thank you,” I say, my head inclined toward him.

He sits up, lets his hand rest on my back. “Think nothing of it, McShane. You were fussed is all.”

“I—I haven’t always been like this.” I rest my hand under my chin, my shoulders slumping. “These damn panic attacks started after the wreck.”

“Ah. Well, should I apologize for kissing you? You seemed to enjoy it, but I don’t want you to think I’m—”

“No, don’t apologize.” There is a genuine smile on his face and some semblance of relief relaxing his features. He hovers close to my lips, but I deflect his attempts by jumping off the table. “That doesn’t mean I want to spend whatever time we have here making out with you like a horny teenager.”

“Pity, that.”

The light from the window above the bookshelves is thin and I can make out the dark, stormy clouds, but there is still mild visibility in the room. It won’t last long and I worry that once we are in total darkness my anxiety will resurface. A smaller concern is that Declan will take the blackness as an invitation to tackle-kiss me again. Not that I think that will be an altogether terrible thing.

God, what’s wrong with me? Tucker returns and I avoid him. Declan gropes me and I knee him. And now I’m making out with him in the basement of the library. Have I gone completely insane?

“Well, we can at least work on sorting these books while the light is still good.” I immediately return to the table and move the unopened box of books between us.

He releases a small sigh, but gets up and stands next to me. “If we must.”