Untamed

I knew so well, trying to find the Erik in there that I hoped still cared about me as my forgotten script fluttered from my numb hands.
    "But I don't know what it is you want me to say!" I cried, trying to remember that Desdemona was not me. She hadn't been guilty of anything.
    "The truth!" he stormed, his eyes looking wild. "I want you to admit just how much you betrayed me!"
    "But I didn't!" I could feel tears stinging my eyes. "Not in my heart. I never betrayed you in my heart."
    Erik's Othello blotted everything out of my world—Heath, Stark, Loren. There was only him and me and the need I had to try to make him understand that I hadn't wanted to betray him. That I still didn't want to betray him.
    "Then your heart is a black, shriveled thing, because you absolutely did betray me."
    His hands began to slide from my shoulders up to my neck, and I knew he could feel my pulse that pounded there like a frantically fluttering bird. "No! The things I did were mistakes! I broke my own heart, not just one time but three times."
    "So you would break mine along with yours?" His fingers closed around my neck, and I could see that there were tears in his eyes, too.
    "No, my lord," I said, trying to hold on to some part of Desdemona. "I just want you to forgive me and—"
    "Forgive you!" he yelled, interrupting me. "How am I supposed to do that? I loved you, and you betrayed me with another guy."
    I shook my head. "It was all lies."
    "You're admitting that you've done nothing but lie to me?" His fingers tightened around my neck.
    I gasped. "No! That's not what I meant. You're misunderstanding everything. What I had with him was the lie. He was the lie. You were right about him all along."
    "Too late," he said thickly. "You've realized this too late."
    "It doesn't have to be too late. Forgive me and give me another chance. Don't let us end like this."
    I watched as several emotions played across Erik's face. I could easily see anger and even hatred, but there was also sadness and maybe, just maybe, what looked like hope waiting quietly way back in the warm summer sky blue part of his eyes.
    Then all of a sudden the sadness and hope flattened from his expression. "No! You acted like a slut, so now you get a slut's reward!"
    With a seriously crazy look in his eyes, he seemed to grow even taller until he towered over me. He stepped close, taking one hand from my throat so that he could use that arm to hold me locked against him. His other hand was big enough that it reached almost all the way around my neck. As he squeezed, our bodies were pressed together, and I felt a wild rush of white-hot desire for him. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was weird, but my heart was pounding with more than fear or nerves. I stared into his eyes, feeling Desdemona's terror along with my own passion, and I knew by the hardness in his body that he was feeling the same things. He was Othello—crazed with jealousy and anger, but he was also Erik—the guy who had been falling in love with me and had been hurt so badly when he'd found me with another guy.
    His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath against my skin. His scent was familiar, and it was that familiarity that decided me. Instead of pulling away from him or continuing with the improv and "fainting" in his arms to pretend I was dead, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into me, closing the short distance between our lips.
    I kissed him with everything in me. I put all my pain and sorrow and passion and love for him into that kiss, and his mouth opened under mine, meeting me passion for passion, pain for pain, and love for love.
    And then the stupid bell rang.

CHAPTER TWENTY

    Oh. My. Goddess. The ringing bell was like a fire alarm. Erik broke away from me, and the class burst into cheers and a chorus of Okie "Whoo-Hoo!" and "That was hawt!" I would have fallen over if Erik hadn't kept a hold of my hand.
    "Bow," he said under his breath to me. "Smile."
    I did as he said, somehow bowing and forcing myself to smile like my world hadn't just exploded. As the kids filed out, Erik spoke in his teacherly voice again.
    "Okay, remember to take a look at Julius Caesar . Tomorrow we're improv-ing from that one. And you guys did a good job today."
    When the last kid had walked out the door, I said, "Erik, we have to talk."
    He dropped my hand like I'd burned him. "You better get going. You don't want to be late to your next class, too." Then he turned away from me and walked