Page 52 of The Fantasy League
I needed to pull myself out of whatever pit I dug inside my brain before I went on a downward spiral and accidentally manifested his death.
There were so many words I wanted to say to him that were stuck in the back of my throat, begging to break free, but they couldn’t.
My period was also due any day so that might have added to my dramatics, but period or not, this was all too much for me.
I moved closer to Abel and pressed my forehead against his and he instantly released a breath that visibly dropped his shoulders two inches.
I wanted him to kiss me—scratch that—neededhim to kiss me. Need burned like a blazing inferno inside my core and he was the only one who would be able to extinguish the flame.
I averted my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the confusion that was plaguing me, but Abel, being Abel, must have sensed it because he cupped my face into his hands, forcing me to look up into his hazel eyes.
“Hey hey hey, nothing’s changing between us, you know that?” Abel stroked his thumb over my cheek tenderly. “Please don’t shut me out again, Scarlett. I won’t be able to fucking survive it.”
A pang of guilt struck me in the depths of my core.
That’s what he thought? That I was going to shut him out?
My thought was immediately interrupted by the word he just used. “You called me Scarlett,” I gasped.
“What?”
“You’ve never called me Scarlett before. It’s always been Red, but right then, you called me Scarlett…”
Abel just smirked in response.
And then he inched his face closer to mine. And closer. And closer. So close that our lips were millimeters away from touching.
A bundle of nerves swarmed into the pit of my stomach as I waited for him to finally cut the distance between us.
“Scarlett, I’m going to kiss you now.” His lips brushed against mine as he spoke, sending a jolt of electricity sparking throughout my entire body. “Unless you tell me to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” I breathed against his lips.
His lips crashed to mine and his tongue begged for entrance into my mouth, which I willingly gave to him. His hands slid from my face and into my hair, lightly tugging at the base as he urged our kiss deeper.
Abel pulled away from my lips and I stared at him, slack-jawed, breathless, and too stunned to utter a word. “You and me”—he waved his hand between the two of us—“we’re not going anywhere, got it? In case you haven’t picked up on it, you’re fucking stuck with me, Red.”
I. Was. Stuck. With. Him.
His mouth found mine again, making my brain short-circuit. His teeth tugged at my bottom lip which sent a whimper coursing out of me.
“Fuck, Red,” Abel rasped out, hoarse and throaty. “As much as I want to keep kissing you, I’ve got to make this flight or my agent is gonna kill me.”
“Do you want me to walk you inside? I can help you with your bag. Walk you to security.” I suggested, desperately wanting five more minutes with him.
“You can’t.” He sighed and my heart sank. “If you get out of this car, I won’t be able to take my hands off of you long enough to get on the plane.”
So he gave me a gentle parting kiss.
And another.
And another.
* * *
Abel was gone.
It wasn’t just that he was no longer physically present—that part was obvious—but the fact was that myentireroutine was uprooted by his absence. I wasn’t waking up early for work anymore or staying an hour late every day just to hang out with him.
