Page 30 of The Rest is History
Mouth.
I—
‘Elodie.Hey. Elodie. You’re scaring me.’
He moves his body right up against mine, pressing me into the wall as if he knows I’m at risk of swooning (though he may not guess the reason). Our faces are centimetres from each other’s now, and my breaths are coming quickly.
Once he’s got me secured, he releases my other arm and brings a hand to my face, grazing his knuckles against my cheek.
I attempt to pull myself the hell together.
‘Sorry. Nothing happened, really. I just went through that passageway, and I felt funny. Kind of faint. Cold. It was freaky.’
‘Where—the haunted passageway?’
‘What?’ My eyes widen. ‘I thought that was upstairs?’
‘There’s another one outside—that cloister going to Master Carpenter’s Court.’
Ohshit.
Realisation dawns.
‘Yeah. That’s the one I just came through.’
‘On your own?’ His hand moves up my face, pressing against my forehead in a exceedingly distracting way.
I try to focus. ‘Yes? Obviously.’
‘Fuck.’ His blue eyes are still scanning my face. I feel compelled to remind myself that it’s an act of concern, not desire, but there’s a tenderness there I’ve never seen. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have warned you. That’s—that place isn’t somewhere you want to go alone. Even the guards patrol it in pairs.’
My eyebrows arch. ‘Are youkiddingme?’
‘Nope. It’s not a happy place.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ I mutter.
‘Did you see something?’ The hand on my neck slides downwards, his fingers brushing my collarbone. His gaze follows, and I can’t read his expression through the thick, dark fan of his eyelashes.
I shake my head. ‘No. I just felt something. It was surreal—like I was having an out-of-body experience.’
‘Fuck, Elodie. I’m so sorry,’ he murmurs again. His eyes lift to mine. Intense. Burning. His fingers are still hovering on my collarbone. He drags a thumb pad along its length, and I swallow. Willing him to keep going. To preserve this precious moment of intimacy between two people who’ve only ever known distance. Polite conversation, at best.
Drag.
Drag.
Heat is pooling in my core at the touch of his fingers and the intensity of our eye contact. I feel like I’ve just dodged a bullet, and they say you feel euphoric after near-death experiences, don’t they?
That must be the reason, because right now, I feel euphoric.
Untethered.
Like anything’s possible.
‘It’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll be fine.’
I lick my lip, and his eyes dart to my mouth. He presses his lips together and shuts his eyes for the briefest moment.
