Page 16 of Unrequited
Right.
One day, I ask him, gently, hesitantly, “Can we ever meet somewhere else?”
He doesn’t answer right away. He just shifts the subject.
Eventually, he says, “I don’t think it would be safe. And I don’t think your brothers would approve, would they?”
There’s sincerity in his voice, like it’s not just about me getting in trouble. It’s about himputtingme in danger.
“You have to understand, lass,” he says quietly, “I can’t.”
“I don’t.”
He sighs and blows out a breath. “Let’s go for a walk,” he says, low and quiet. It’s a move I didn’t expect.
I go with him.
We’ve never been alone before. Not really. We’re always in the pub, surrounded by people, noise, and shadows.
But this time, it’s just us.
He’s so much taller than I am. So broad-shouldered and powerful that when he walks beside me, I feel small. Protected.
He takes my hand, and it fits perfectly in his. Strong. Steady.
His dark curls sweep around his temples, soft and unruly. His eyes are a piercing blue that see right through me, clear and deep like the Irish sea he talks about. Craggy cliffs. Wild ocean. The way he said it made it sound like poetry.
He smells masculine and sharp, like the edge of something old and untamed.
When we walk together, it’s clear people fear him.
God, do they fear him. They step back when he approaches, lower their voices, and avert their gazes.
And I start to realize… Ilikethat people fear him. I feel safe with him, like I’ve tamed this wild thing that grown men fear. I have the lion eating out of the palm of my hand.
Truthfully, I’m used to being around dangerous men. But he’s different. The way he carries it, calm andcontrolled.
When we exit the pub, we round a corner. The air is cold and bright with the smell of impending snow.
He stops walking and takes my hand. My breath catches as he turns to me.
“I want to kiss you, Zoya,” he says, and I remember the night months ago when he saved me from an unwanted kiss.
This is very,verydifferent.
I want to ask him to say my name again.
My heart stumbles in my chest.
Of course I want to kiss him… more than anything. But the words catch in my throat.
“Well,” I manage to say with a shaky laugh, “that’s convenient. Because I would actually like to kiss you too.”
God, how lame am I?
My cheeks flush. I feel embarrassed, like a girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing.
Because I reallydon’t. I’ve become complacent with our Thursday night chat sessions, comfortable around this much-older, forbidden man, that I’ve always forgotten how naive and inexperienced I am.
