Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

I started to walk away, but before I knew what was happening, he’d jumped up, grabbed my arm, and yanked me down into the pool. I screamed and splashed, but he didn’t let me go under, pulling me into his body and wrapping his arms around me instead. I looked up at him, breathing hard, and he looked down at me, our lips inches from each other. Drops of water glistened in his hair and wet his eyelashes, and for a moment, I had no will. I lowered my eyes to his mouth. Supple and strong and most amazing when he used it to smile. Tears pooled in my eyes. I couldn’t stop him. Don’t. Please. I wasn’t a happy person. Not ever. I won’t be able to stop you. He pulled me in, and I opened my mouth to protest, but instead of a kiss, he just pulled me into his arms, pressed my head to his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around me so tight, it felt like he was the one about to break, not me. I stilled, not sure what to do, but I could feel every muscle in his body flex as he held me and took deep breaths. And slowly, I closed my eyes, every ounce of fight draining out of me, feeling his embrace. It had been so long since I felt this. My grandmother was hardly lucid enough to hug me much anymore. My arms itched, wanting to touch him. God, I wanted to hold him. But before I could work up the courage to pull away or hug him back, he whispered, “I’m not like that.” And he pulled up, staring down at me almost nose to nose. “And I’ll see you on the bus tomorrow night, Emory Scott.”