Rush The Game

don’t look at him. I don’t dare. I need to keep it together, keep my emotions locked down. I should step away, rely only on myself. But I can’t manage to do it. Instead, I lean on him and keep asking questions, like they haven’t just told me the date the world ends.
    “The thousand points. Is that truth or rumor? If we get a thousand points, do we get to go free?” Would I want to go free? Or would I want to keep fighting?
    “No one on this planet will be free until the Drau threat is neutralized.”
    I’m breathing too fast, my chest tight, shoulders tense. “Truth or rumor?” I ask again.
    There’s a hesitation. A split second of silence that’s barely enough for me to notice. But I do notice it and I notice Jackson’s fists clenched at his sides.
    “Truth,” the Committee says. “For most.”
    “But not all?” Or none. Are they lying to me? Why pause if they’re not lying?
    “Those at the heads of the teams may not leave. They are too few in number and too essential to the scheme.”
    The heads of the teams. Jackson. I turn and stare at him. I remember sharp and clear how he told me there’s only one way out for him. Death? No. I can’t bear the thought of Jackson dead.
    “They may not leave when they get a thousand points, but can they ever leave?” I pause. “Has anyone ever left? Has anyone reached the thousand points?”
    “Enough,” Jackson says again, his tone completely different. He sounds . . . resigned, and infinitely sad. He drops his hand from my waist and steps away from me. I feel that wall between us again, the one he builds brick by brick. He’s done it with remarkable speed this time, never giving me a chance to knock out even a single block.
    He looks up at the Committee and says, “Go.”
    And to my astonishment, they do. One second, we’re surrounded by shadowy, dark figures, and then we’re alone in the massive echoing coliseum. The air is too still. The lights too dim. The shadows touch us, creeping across Jackson’s determined features.
    “I need to do this. Just once,” he says, his voice soft, his gaze holding mine. “Just once.”
    “Do what?” I ask, and something in his eyes makes my breath catch.



CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
    WE’RE SEPARATED BY ONLY A SMALL SPACE, AND THEN WE aren’t because Jackson steps closer, so close that the faint citrus scent his shaving cream left on his skin lures me. So close that I have to tip my head back to meet his gaze.
    Pulse racing, I stand perfectly still as he reaches up to pull the covered elastic from my ponytail. He takes his time, leaving me plenty of opportunity to stop him, to step away. My hair slides down over my shoulders. My breath stops as he takes a thick handful and drags his fingers through to the ends, then lowers his face so his nose traces up the side of my neck to my ear.
    “You smell like strawberries,” he whispers.
    “Shampoo.” I barely have enough breath for even that single word. All my senses are filled with him, the feel of his chest against mine, his lips on my skin, the beat of his heart thundering in time with my own.
    My breathing turns ragged. I’m grateful for the solid weight of his forearm pressing against my lower back, drawing me closer, holding me up because my legs feel like noodles, my head spinning.
    He drags his mouth over the angle of my jaw, my cheek, to my lips.
    Fire bursts inside me. My lips part under his. Coming up on my toes, I fist my hands in his hair and kiss him back, sharing the flames that lick at my soul. I breathe as he breathes, liquid heat in my veins.
    He kisses me like I am water and he is parched. Like I am air and he is drowning. He kisses me like he is dying and I am his lifeline. He is gentle and rough, taking and giving. In that moment, his kiss is all I know, all I ever want to know.
    I come up higher on my toes and my lips cling to his as he pulls away. I’m left shaken and out of my element. I’ve never been kissed like that. I never imagined such a kiss existed.
    I stare at him, stunned. We’re both breathless. His pupils are dark and dilated, surrounded only by a thin rim of iridescent gray.
    “What was that?” I whisper. I’m cold without his body next to mine. I feel cheated that he’s stepped away from me.
    “My one chance,” he says with a hint of his dark smile.
    “For what?”
    “To kiss you. To live the moment I’ve been wanting since the first second I laid eyes on you.”
    I’m shaken to the core. He’s wanted to