Page 27 of Hiss and Tell
Later, at the door, Aspen touches my arm lightly. “Thank you. Not just for getting our sentence reduced or for bringing the books, but for… everything. For making this feel normal. For being so good with him.”
“Of course.” My snakes lean toward her slightly, and I resist the urge to follow their lead. “He’s a terrific kid.”
We stand close in the doorway, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of everything—the warmth radiating from her skin, the way her hair catches the hallway light, how her eyes have gone soft and dark in the dim space between us.
“Sebastian,” she says quietly, and just my name on her lips makes my snakes sway with longing.
“I should go,” I manage, but I don’t move. Can’t move. The space between us feels electric, charged with possibilities I shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Should you?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Because I keep thinking about our fake dates. About how they don’t feel fake at all.”
My sanctuary effect pulses around us without conscious thought, turning the narrow hallway into an intimate cocoon. “Aspen…”
“I know this is complicated,” she continues, stepping closer until I can feel the heat of her body as her seductive scent intensifies. “I know we’re supposed to be taking this slow, keeping things professional. But standing here with you, watching you with Milo, feeling this…”
Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, and I swear she can feel my heart racing beneath her palm. My snakes reach toward her desperately, several brushing against her hair in gentle, yearning caresses.
“We should talk about this,” I say, even as every instinct I have screams to close the distance between us.
“Yes,” she agrees, but her gaze drops to my lips. “We should definitely talk. About boundaries, and expectations, and how fake dating is supposed to work.”
“Definitely,” I murmur, leaning closer despite myself. “Very important conversations.”
“Critical,” she breathes, rising on her toes until our faces are inches apart.
For a heartbeat, we stay frozen like that—her hand on my chest, my snakes threading through her hair, the air between us crackling with want and possibility. Then I’m kissing her.
The decision happens without conscious thought—one moment we’re suspended in possibility, the next my mouth is on hers and she’s melting against me with a soft sound of surrender. Her lips are warm and willing, parting under mine as her free hand fists in my shirt.
My snakes respond immediately, several wrapping gently around her arms while others create a shimmering curtain around us. She tastes like wine and want, and when her tongue touches mine, my sanctuary effect pulses so strongly that the very air around us seems to shimmer.
“Sebastian,” she breathes against my lips, and the way she says my name—like it’s prayer and promise and plea all at once—makes me deepen the kiss. My hands find her waist, spanning it completely, and she arches against me with a hunger that matches my own.
She’s perfect in my arms, fitting against me like she was made for this moment. When she nips my lower lip, I can’t help the growl that rumbles through my chest. The sound makes her press closer, her body flush against mine.
Then, from Milo’s room, comes a sleepy call: “Mama? I can’t find Super Steggy’s cape!”
We break apart slowly, both breathing hard, her lips swollen, and my snakes swaying drunkenly with satisfaction.
“Coming, Bug!” Aspen calls, her voice only slightly unsteady. She looks back at me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with something that has nothing to do with our fake arrangement. “We should… we need to…”
“Talk,” I finish, my tone so rough it’s almost a growl. “Soon.”
“Soon,” she agrees, and the promise in her voice makes my sanctuary effect shimmer with anticipation.
Walking home through the quiet streets, I’m not thinking about Derek orfather-son breakfasts or library politics. I’m thinking about the way Aspen looked at me in that doorway, the heat in her eyes, the way she said my name like it was the most important three syllables in the world.
And I’m thinking that maybe some fake arrangements are worth making real.
Chapter Sixteen
Aspen
Milo’s been asleep for an hour, but I’m still lying here staring at the ceiling, replaying that kiss over and over. Sebastian’s hands on my face, the way his snakes moved like they were dancing, the heat of his mouth against mine. Those amazing otherworldly eyes.
My apartment feels too small, too quiet. Every time I close my eyes, I see the way he looked at me—like I was something precious, something worth protecting. When was the last time anyone looked at me like that?
Derek certainly never did. Even in the beginning, before everything went wrong, he looked at me like I was convenient. Available. A placeholder until something better came along.
