Page 54 of Even Angels fall
The words leave my mouth faster than I’ve been eating and break the silent bubble I’ve been in since Cassiopé dropped me inside the kitchen.
32
Elhyor
Her question gets me out of my mind, and out of the dirty corner it had started to wander to.
You’d think I would get used to her moaning, with how she taunted me for a week every night, but no, as soon as she put that tiny bit of pasta in her mouth, it was like I was against my door all over again.
But this time, I get to see her while she moans, and it is truly glorious.
So much so that I think I need another of those cold showers.
I also can’t stop imagining that it’s something else that she puts in her mouth, and that very something twitches in my pants.
I just hope she’ll stop moaning before I need to stand again, or it might get embarrassing for me.
“Yes, sure,” I answer, once I remember that she had asked a question.
“How did you learn to cook like this?” she asks as she twirls pasta in the sauce, looks at it, and plunges it in the sauce again, as if she decided there wasn’t enough cream in the first place.
“With my mother.”
I answer her question, even if I recognize this for what it is. I told her we were going to get married, and now she thinks we need to try to get to know each other for the sake of our marriage.
“You don’t have to pretend,” I add.
One would ask themselves if I didn’t lose my mind. Me, conversing with the one and only person who got close to killing me.
I don’t even understand what is wrong with me, that I still want to protect her.
I probably should get one of those straight jackets they used once upon a time, because I don’t think I’m far from being clinically insane.
“Pretend?” she asks, and I don’t know if she’s a good actor, or if she’s truly lost at my words, but that plump bottom lip that I’ve dreamed of biting too many times to count forms the cutest gasp.
Nope. Not gonna think about those lips again.
“Like we need to know each other for this marriage to work,” I say, searching her eyes for a reaction.
Her eyes harden, and her lips, that were so inviting just seconds ago, turn into a hard line.
It should make me feel better that she understands what I mean, and reacts accordingly, but instead, I have this pit inside my heart that fills with something dark and sticky, like tar.
Not going to look into this feeling. Not. Again.
“Okay, then let’s set some rules,” she answers, her back going straighter than it ever has been and her hands gently folded over her lap.
She’s a mix of contradictions in the way she exists, and it’s truly wonderf… I stop myself in that thought—interesting.
“What rule do you need, Little Devil? Are you scared you could fall in love with your husband, wife?” I ask with a smirk.
At the snicker she answers with, it looks like she doesn’t sound impressed.
“I’m not your wife yet.”
“Semantics,” I answer. “It’s just a matter of a couple of days.”
“Right,” she says. “I’m staying in my room, and you in yours,” she starts, as if this was supposed to be one of her rules.
